


Guardians

by EmRosie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter RPF
Genre: Adopted Teddy Lupin, Adoption, Angst, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, Father Figures, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluffy Ending, Good Draco Malfoy, M/M, Oblivious, Oblivious Harry, Pining Harry, Post-War, Sad Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-26 16:06:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 38,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7580911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmRosie/pseuds/EmRosie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Almost three years after the war, Harry feels the world may never stop suffering. After Andromeda’s tragic death Harry finds himself as Teddy’s legal guardian, although he soon finds out it’s not a role he’s expected to undertake alone…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is one of my much older stories, which I put up on fanfiction a longggg time ago. Hopefully, even though with its age the writing in this may not be up to the standard of my most recent stuff (as I do like to think my writings improved!) I hope this is still enjoyable. I liked the plot to this story and - at the time - I had a lot of fun writing it. Rated for teen audiences – some strong language and, in later chapters, some suggestion of sexual content although (unlike some of my other fics) nothing too explicit…
> 
> This will be uploaded as a mutli-chapter fic, originally 9 chapters on fanfiction, but I'm bulking the chapters up here to post it in 3 much longer chapters. Enjoy! :)

It had been just under three years since the end of the war, yet Harry seemed to feel the world would never stop suffering. 

When the last spell had been cast, the world pushed forward with an undeniable force. Harry found himself swept away by it all; first, rounding up all the death eaters who remained after the battle, then working through the grief and loss of loved ones, attending funeral after funeral until they all blurred into one. Then had come the trials; Harry, Ron and Hermione had spoken of what had happened to them, captivating a silent Wizengamot with their tales. Their testimonies helped put away some of the darkest wizards the court had ever seen; except, that was, for three members of one certain family. 

The Malfoy trials had been the clearest event in Harry's memory. He watched, stony faced, as Lucius Malfoy managed to charm and twist his way, with eloquent words and elaborate sentences, out of a prison sentence. The Manor was seized by the Ministry as part of his reparations and he disappeared as soon as his trial came to an end; no time was wasted on his wife or son and their fate. 

Harry, however, had. He spoke at Narcissa's trial, recounting the events of the Forbidden Forrest, of how she had saved his life. Then had come Draco's trial; Harry had found that the hardest. Sometimes, when he thought of Malfoy, he could only think of Ron's face as he swallowed the poison mead, of the sick crunch of his own nose under Malfoy's boot. But then he saw him, pale, fearful and defeated. Looking as lost and as desperate he had in the room of requirement, as scared as he had when he had lowered his wand before Dumbledore, when he refused to identify Harry at the Manor. Harry had recounted all of these events to a silent Wizengamot and he had saved Malfoy. 

With no home to return to and, despite Harry's support, their name and reputation in tatters, Malfoy and his mother had fled to France. 

After the final trial was held, the world began to return to normal. Celebrations began, the world thrived in the summer sunshine and people began to smile once again.

Except for Harry, there was no such thing as normal. 

He had tried, honestly tried, to rebuild his relationship with Ginny but they'd both been through too much, both slipped too far, for anything to be the same again. In the months that followed Harry threw himself into Auror training and managed to forget his relationship with Ginny. A year after that, when Harry discovered he preferred the company of other men, he felt comforted in the knowledge that he and Ginny would never have worked anyway. 

Just as the dust had begun to settle on Harry's new life his world was tipped upside down once again. 

Andromeda had died, just two days ago. It had been a shock to everyone who had known her, the healers who had examined her body after the said she probably been unwell for some time. They said that the pressure of losing her husband, then daughter, then being left to raise her grandson had taken its toll on her magical core, although there were no direct illnesses they could point to. 

"I think it would be most probable to suggest that she died, quite literally, of a broken heart." The healer had told Harry as he openly sobbed in the small, too white, too clean office in St Mungo's. 

Three years later and the war was still claiming lives. 

That was why Harry was here at the Ministry, following the corridor down to an unfamiliar department. Gathering his thoughts Harry raised his fist and knocked solemnly on the door before him. 

"Come in" called a voice from inside as the door magically opened itself. 

He was greeted with the sight of an office so messy it looked like a bomb had hit it. When Harry said the muggle phrase, even in his head, he fought the urge to scold himself - no wizards ever knew what he was talking about when he said things like that. Finally his gaze settled on an elderly wizard, dressed as haphazardly as his bookcases were stacked, sporting a lime green hat and periwinkle robes with an orange trim. The combination made Harry's eyes hurt and he fought the urge to rub his eyes. 

"Ah, Mr Potter, welcome!" The wizard greeted, smiling brightly in an overly familiar welcome which Harry was now accustomed to receiving from wizards and witches he had never met. "Do take a seat; we've been waiting for you." 

We? Harry's mind processed the wizard’s words and his eyes spun across the room, noting the presence of two chairs in front of the man’s desk; one of which was definitely occupied. 

Blonde hair, slicked back. A tall, straight body sitting upright against the chair back. Angular, sharp features framing stone grey eyes. 

Even after almost three years, there was no mistaking Draco Malfoy. 

"Malfoy?" Harry breathed in surprise, although he had no doubt who the wizard before him was. 

Looking up to meet Harry's gaze Malfoy gave him a curt nod, "Potter" he replied, his tone indifferent. It was no longer laced with the cockiness or arrogance of his youth, but neither did it shake and stammer with the horror of his teenage years. 

Harry found himself numbly taking a seat, his mind whirling with questions as to why Malfoy, of all people, was there. 

"I'm sure you'll be wondering, Mr Potter, why we have an additional member at this meeting." The wizard began, although Harry didn't need to worry if he was an accomplished occlumens, the surprise was no doubt clearly plastered across his face. 

"I thought I was... I thought this was about Teddy." Harry replied, looking carefully between the wizard who had addressed him and Malfoy, sitting so pale and still that if he didn't know any better, Harry might have believed he was made of stone. 

"It is, it is." The wizard confirmed, nodding his head happily, causing his hat to wobble on his head in a most undignified way. "There may be some... Details you need to be brought up to speed with. Please, first, let's move forward with the pleasantries before we begin." 

Harry found himself shaking hands with the wizard who had introduced himself as Andrew Cairn, a legal advisor specialising in wizarding family law, still none the wiser as to why Malfoy was here. 

"Now, considering the recent loss of Mrs Andromeda Tonks, we're here to discuss the custody of Mister Edward Lupin, whom you known better as Teddy, of course." The way the wizard smiled through his speech, as if Harry was perfectly at ease with why his former school rival was sitting beside him in a discussion about his godson, made Harry swell with frustration. He had had enough of pleasantries - he wanted answers. 

"Why is he here?" Harry asked, cutting off Cairn in mid-sentence. He curled his fingers inward, balling them into fists at his side; he had enough to deal with, helping organise Andromeda's funeral and moving Teddy’s belongings over to Grimmuald Place without dealing with... Whatever this was. 

"Well, Mr Potter. As Teddy's godfather, you are of course well within rights to become a legal guardian. However, Mr Malfoy here is also - as Teddy's cousin and only remaining bloody relative - equally entitled by law. As Andromeda gave no direction I am here to tell you both that, from this point forward, are Teddy's legal guardians." 

Silence covered the room and Harry felt as if the bottom of his stomach had disappeared. As shock subsided, anger resurfaced. 

"But why - he's nothing to do with Teddy!" Harry burst out angrily, to which Cairn slowly shook his head. 

"You do see, Mr Potter, I did attempt to warn you that there were details you needed to be filled in on." At this point Harry chanced a glance over at Malfoy - he didn't appear at all surprised by Cairns revelation. He turned to Harry as he sensed him looking, shifting a little in his seat. 

"My mother, when she divorced father, returned to her maiden name of Black." Malfoy began, explaining nothing Harry didn't already know although he listened avidly. "In turn, she began to seek out contact with her sister, build bridges, so to speak." Malfoy paused, his tongue flicking out over his lips as his eyes clouded with thought. Harry found himself mesmerised by this - for so many years he had watched Malfoy, cool and impassive. When Harry had seen him with his guard down during the war, the only sight he'd seen in those eyes was fear. Now the emotion within them was different... Malfoy was hurting. "She had begun writing and then visiting Andromeda and Teddy, before she..." Malfoy broke off, swallowing thickly. Harry didn't need Malfoy to say the words - although it was not the high status news it may once have been, Narcissa's death last year, caused by addiction to calming draughts, had been covered in a small section of The Prophet. 

Once again, the war was over, yet still taking lives. 

"Well, I picked up where she stopped. I began writing and visiting in her place. I've met Teddy several times now, actually. I came straight over from France as soon as I heard."

Malfoy's words hung in silence as he finished, thankfully turning his gaze away so Harry was no longer faced with the raw emotions there. Even without the eye contact, Harry's kind was spinning. Malfoy and Narcissa had been seeing Andromeda and Teddy? Why hadn't she said anything? Surely, after Harry speaking at their trials, she would have known that he wouldn't have a problem with it? The words, however, felt flat even in Harry's thoughts. Yes, he may have spoken to defend Malfoy, testify that he wasn't evil, wasn't a murderer; but that didn't mean he would be willing to accept him as part of Teddy's life. 

Except that now, of course, he didn't appear to have a choice. 

Harry found the anger he had held subsiding, replaced by a new emotion as his cheeks began to burn. 

Shame. 

What must Andromeda of thought of him, not to tell him about speaking to her sister and nephew? To not tell him Teddy was meeting more of his own flesh and blood? And what had he done just now - nothing but prove that whatever fears Andromeda had held were well placed by the scene he had just caused? His shoulders slumped as he sank back into his chair, a petulant scowl on his face. 

Cairns cleared his throat awkwardly, bringing himself back into the exchange. "So, as I was explaining, you are now both legal guardians for Teddy, formally recognised by ancient wizarding law. The details of such guardianship are a little more lenient, we can work out the finer details of those together. First, Mr Malfoy, I assume your living arrangements..?" 

"I came straight from France, I'm staying at the Leaky at the minute." Malfoy explained and Harry almost found himself smirking at the thought of Malfoy staying in the bare, basic rooms the Leaky Cauldron offered. Surely he was much more accustomed to silk throws and polished, hard oak floors? 

"I'll have to go back, in time, to close my shop and sell the house, so I can find some place more permanent here. Until then, I suppose..." Malfoy trailed off with a slight frown, as if he hadn't considered the time in between selling his home in France and finding a new one in England. Harry found the sight a little unnerving; Malfoy had always been calculated, organised, ready with a plan. Maybe he really had been affected by Andromeda’s loss...

At the thought, shame gnawed deeper into guilt, bubbling at the pit of Harry's stomach. He knew he had to do something, a peace offering of some kind at least, if they were both to care for Teddy. "Number 12 has plenty of bedrooms I don't use. You could stay with me, until you find somewhere." He offered, feeling uncomfortable as Malfoy shot him a look of unhidden surprise. "I mean, I suppose it will be easier if we're both looking after Teddy, until you find somewhere and we sorting something out..." Harry trailed off and shrugged, wishing the conversation would hurry up and end. 

"That's very generous Potter, thank you." Malfoy replied, giving Harry yet another nod. Harry, however, failed to notice the gesture as he was frozen once again in shock - had Malfoy actually just thanked him? 

"Very well, gentleman, that sounds like a plan!" Cairn cut in cheerfully, clearly very relieved he didn't have to sort out the situation himself. "When Mr Malfoy finds himself a permanent residence we shall meet again to discuss finer details of how you will share your newfound guardianship. Until then, if you sign these, indicating you're willing and able to take on the role of Teddy's legal guardian until he becomes of age..." Cairns trailed off as he rattled through desk drawers, eventually producing two rolls of parchment and quills with a flourish. 

Harry simply took his parchment, unrolled it and - ignoring the long lines of neatly written ink - signed his name. He was certain he heard a huff of annoyance and definitely saw Malfoy rolling his eyes as he unrolled his own parchment, reading the script word for word before he signed his name. 

"Excellent, excellent." Cairns said as he rolled and sealed the parchments with a flick of his wand. "Now you may use our departments Floo, we have a direct link with St Mungo's children's ward -" 

Noticing the way Harry's face paled, Cairns shook his head so avidly Harry was certain the hat would fall of his head. "Of course, Teddy is perfectly healthy, we find in these cases using St Mungo's crèche to take care of children until guardians are placed is much preferable to our offices." He explained as he rose to his feet, signalling in the direction of his door. "If you leave my office and turn to your left, past the third door down you will see a small hall filled with grates. The one you need will be clearly marked. Good day, gentleman." 

Harry rose to his feet, only half aware that Malfoy was following him as he led the way down the corridor. Sure enough they soon found themselves in a small, open square lined with fireplaces. It took Harry no time at all to locate the grate they needed "St Mungo's, children's ward" was engraved in ornate silver script above the green tiles that seemed to be a staple of floo grates across the ministry. 

He stepped up to the grate, taking a fistful of powder before turning to Malfoy awkwardly. 

"See you there then.." He said, once again finding a nod in response before he stepped forward into the flames and cast his powder down. 

-x-

 

When Teddy had caught sight of Harry coming down the corridor he had jumped up from the stuffed kneazle he had been playing with to scurry across the floor to greet him. He had flung his arms around Harry's neck as he had bent down to hug him and Harry had felt, just for a moment, that everything was right in the world. 

The feeling hadn't lasted long. 

Harry remembered the way Teddy had squealed in delight, using his vantage point over Harry's shoulder to look down the corridor behind. 

"Draco! Draco!" He had called before breaking free of Harry's embrace and hurrying to give Malfoy a hug which had been as warm and accepting as the one he had given Harry. As Teddy connected with Draco, Harry watched as his hair turned a startling white blonde - Teddy had, Harry had known for some time, inherited his mother’s abilities as a metamorphmagus but could not yet control his transformations; at his young age they were influenced mainly by his emotions. If the hug between Teddy and Draco hadn't let Harry see how close Teddy was to his cousin, the startlingly smooth blonde locks which covered his head told him all he needed to know. 

As he watched the exchange, Harry's stomach had twisted uncomfortably for two reasons; firstly, there was an itching discomfort, an urge to tear Teddy away from Malfoy and keep him to himself, safe and protected. Secondly, there was the gnawing guilt rising once again as he realised that Draco was clearly a much bigger part of Teddy's life than Harry had ever known. 

Harry had taken them both back to Grimmuald Place and provided a simple dinner of soup and bread. Harry had felt uncomfortable as he placed the bowl before Draco - although he'd been expecting Teddy, he hadn't been expecting anyone who may have an... Opinion on whatever it was Harry served. Thankfully Malfoy had remained silent, taking his spoon and bread and leaving nothing but at empty plate behind. As they ate, the kitchen had been filled with the loud, excitable chatter that only a child could muster in such sombre situations. After their plates had been cleared, Malfoy had announced that he should return to the Leaky Cauldron and collect his things. Harry had nodded, glad for the reprieve from Malfoy's presence. What had he been thinking, offering him a place to stay? He knew his decision had been fuelled by guilt but the... uncomfortable, Harry had settled on with no other word to describe the feeling, presence of Draco Malfoy in his house. 

After Malfoy had gone, Harry had given Teddy a bath and taken him into the room which had long been Teddy’s own; decorated just to his liking from the occasions he had slept at Harry’s before. Even though he had not yet had opportunity to gather Teddy’s belongings, Harry had been glad to be able to give Teddy a familiar space. 

 

He sat down beside him, stroking the hair that flew wildly across his head, evidence of Harry’s not so refined hair-drying skills. Within moments his eyes fluttered to a close and his breathing evened. Harry slowly rose from the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping young boy. With a final stroke of his mousey hair, Harry smiled a sad smile to himself. 

"Happy birthday, Teddy." He had whispered, vowing in that second that by the time Teddy's next birthday came around his happy birthday wouldn't be empty words whispered into the darkness, haunted by the death of his grandmother. 

\--- 

Harry had gone to bed not long after he had taken Teddy to bed, leaving a short note for Draco explaining that he could choose from any of the bedrooms on the second floor. He awoke early the next morning and, as the April sun shone through his window, allowed himself a moment of peaceful happiness. The serene mood shattered like a fine glass as Harry heard a thudding of feet – light, but purposeful – making their way downstairs. In that moment Harry remembered everything that had happened; the loss, the sorrow, and the… startling turn of events regarding Malfoy. 

With a sigh he pulled himself up, sliding out of bed and into his slippers. He knew, from sharing his house with Teddy before, that those footsteps would have by now found their way to the kitchen, and with Kreacher away at Hogwarts, would be making a terrible mess of his kitchen. His glasses were, as always, easily located on his bedside table. Once his blurry vision regained focus, he quickly found his dressing down and tied the familiar, comforting fabric over his pyjamas. 

Harry took the two flights of stairs from his and Teddy’s rooms to the ground floor without giving a moment’s thought to Malfoy; Harry presumed he was still sleeping behind one of the second floors closed doors. During the sixth year that he spent avidly watching Malfoy Harry had quickly learnt he wasn’t the earliest of risers and, when he did arrive, spent most of the morning meal drinking coffee. The thought made him feel a little more relaxed – time for he and Teddy to enjoy a nice breakfast together before Malfoy’s presence once again brought its unease. 

However as Harry reached the kitchen door, left slightly ajar, he stopped in his tracks. 

“I can’t find any pumpkin juice, Teddy.” Came Malfoy’s voice, floating through the gap in the door. Harry carefully, silently edged up to the door frame and peaked through the gap. He saw Teddy was sitting up at the high kitchen table with a slice of toast, thickly covered in raspberry jam; most of which was now colourfully decorating the young boys face. Malfoy, however, was out of Harry’s line of sight. “Lots of milk, it’s good for you, that’s one thing the muggles have got right. Try some.” As Malfoy’s voice continued Harry felt more and more as if he’d awoken in an alternate universe; Draco Malfoy was in his kitchen, serving breakfast to his godson, talking so casually about muggles of all things. 

Harry’s hand hovered in mid-air, frozen in the space between his body and the door handle. He had no idea what to do; after a moment of internal struggle he gritted his teeth and pushed the door open. He would not be made to feel like he was intruding in his own home. Especially not by Malfoy.

As Harry entered he was able to see Malfoy, his back to Harry as he poured Teddy a glass of milk, already dressed in a fine pair of robes. Harry suddenly felt self-conscious, picking at the fraying tie of his dressing gown. It wasn’t that he couldn’t afford fine clothes; he liked his once fluffy, now slightly threadbare dressing gown. It was homely, it was comfortable. Besides, it was his house! He could wear his pyjamas for breakfast, couldn’t he? As Malfoy turned around to hand Teddy the glass he froze, Harry’s keenly sharpened Auror observation skills noted the way his fingers tightened around the glass, his knuckles whitening as much as the already pale skin allowed.

“Uncle Harry!” Teddy called happily from his seat oblivious, as any three year old would be, to the tension between the two adults which had now frosted over the room. “Draco made me breakfast, but he says you haven’t got any pumpkin juice. Can we get some? Please?”

Harry blinked, breaking his stare with Malfoy then turned to his godson, offering him a warm smile. “Of course we can. We can go later if you want. When you’ve eaten your breakfast.” At the offer Teddy whooped happily, stuffing down his toast and adding more jam to his already red smeared face. The glass of milk, which Malfoy had now placed beside his plate, was drained in an instant before Teddy tore off out of the kitchen and up the stairs. 

As Teddy left, the kitchen descended into a very awkward silence. After a moment Malfoy broke it, clearing his throat and saying “I hope it’s okay. Making Teddy breakfast, I mean. I was already up and..” Malfoy trailed off, looking uncertain. Harry was once again struck by the ways in which he had changed so much; he could never imagine the Malfoy he’d known at school behaving like this. No, the Malfoy from school would have waltzed around Harry’s kitchen as if he owned it, probably making some sneering comment about his chipped pots and lack of house elf. 

Feeling, after Malfoy’s words, that he had no right to complain Harry nodded his head. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He said, pulling the kettle toward him. Already hot, he noted. He took a spoon and began to heap grounds of coffee granules into a pot, pouring the water on top. He lost himself in the simple act of brewing the coffee until a whisper broke his concentration.

“He doesn’t seem affected at all, does he?” The words were so quiet Harry didn’t know if he was intended to hear. Either way, he had. He frowned, considering Malfoy’s words. Harry, of course, had noted the way Teddy seemed perfectly at ease with his new living situation – and hadn’t mentioned his grandmother once. 

“He’s young. I’m sure it hasn’t really sunk in yet… Or…” Harry trailed off, his heart dropping like a stone. He suddenly realised, with the surprise of finding Malfoy in the office, he hadn’t covered the most basic ground with Cairn’s about what had happened to his godson in the day and a half after Andromeda’s death before Harry had been allowed to collect him. He turned away from the pot to Malfoy, although from his position he could only see the back of his head. “Do you… Do you think they even told him?”

Although Harry couldn’t see his face he could see the sudden stiffening of Malfoy’s shoulders. There was silence for a moment then, even more quietly than before, Malfoy spoke again. “Surely they… Had to?” 

“I don’t know.” Harry replied, shrugging although the gesture would be lost on Malfoy. “I’ve never been in a situation like this. They might leave it to the families… I suppose…” Harry trailed off, an awkward pause rising as he chewed on his bottom lip. “I suppose we’ll have to ask him.”

At these words Malfoy twisted in his seat, turning to face Harry. He eyed him for a moment and Harry suddenly felt hot under the intensity of his gaze. He realised that this was the longest conversation he and Malfoy had had without insulting each other in… well, ever. There were, of course, more important things to be thinking about. 

As if sensing Harry’s thoughts Malfoy nodded, standing to smooth down his robes. He opened his mouth, as if to say something, when Teddy burst back into the kitchen. “Uncle Harry – I haven’t got any clothes! Just my yesterday ones, and my pyjamas. We’ll have to go to grannies and get some.” 

The way Teddy spoke of Andromeda so casually made Harry’s heart twist in pain. He gaze a long glance to Draco, who simply stared back. “Teddy…” Harry began, the hesitation clear in his voice.

“Yes, Uncle Harry?” His godson replied, looking up at Harry with wide eyes, innocent and trusting. 

“Come here.” Harry said, picking Teddy up – with some difficulty, he noted, when had the kid got so heavy? He was relieved to place Teddy down on a kitchen chair, taking the one next to him and placing a gentle hand on his leg. After a moments silence, during which Teddy looked between the two adults with his wide eyes, Harry cleared his throat. He had no idea how to do this, he realised, so he let instinct take over.

“When… Before I – er,” Harry paused, flickering his gaze over his shoulder to where Malfoy say, silently overseeing the conversation. “Before we came to get you… Did the lady who was with you tell you anything about where Granny Andromeda was?”

“Yes Uncle Harry” Teddy replied, happily nodding his head. “She said that she had gone away and that someone special was coming to pick me up. Then it was you and Draco! It’s so cool staying here for a bit.”

“For a bit?” Harry repeated, his stomach sinking at Teddy’s final words.

Teddy nodded slowly, looking at Harry as if he were stupid; a technique only a three year old could master. “Grannies gone away, so when she’s home I’ll go home. Like when you go away all the time Uncle Harry. You always come back.” 

Harry’s heart seemed to stop beating, his throat suddenly and painfully dry. It was true; he often told Teddy he was ‘going away’ before he went on stake outs and long distance missions with the Auror department and, yes, he always came back. He pulled Teddy over onto his knee, needing the physical reassurance of his weight there as he delivered the next part of his news.

“I’m sorry, Teddy… But…” Harry broke off, his voice cracking. How did he tell a three year old, one who had already lost his mother and father, that the woman who had raised him ever since was dead too? He didn’t know – he just knew he had to. “Can you remember when Victoire was born and you asked Granny Andromeda why you didn’t have a mummy and daddy like her?” Harry asked, referring back to the sad conversation only a few months ago, when Teddy had met the bundle of life that was the then six month old Victoire Weasley. Slowly, Teddy nodded, his eyes clouding over as he held Harry’s gaze. 

“Well… Granny Andromeda wasn’t very well. She was poorly. So she’s had to go and… move on too. She’s with your mummy and daddy now.” Harry found himself blinking back tears as he spoke, desperately pleading with his body not to betray him; he couldn’t let Teddy see him cry, not now, he had to be strong. 

“Why?” Teddy asked, his voice barely more than a whisper and Harry’s heart shattered. Such an innocent question; one that he longed for the answer to.

“I don’t know..” Harry admitted honestly, burying his face into Teddy’s hair as he held the youngster tightly. “But I do know that you can stay here and you’ll always be safe. I’ll look after you.” Harry’s tone strengthened as he continued as if he were putting the force of his emotions, of his desire to protect Teddy, into his words.

The young boy said nothing, simply clung to Harry for what felt like the longest time. After a while his grip loosened and he looked up at Harry. His eyes were still wide, Harry noted, but now… Clouded by sadness, a little more of their innocent chipped away. 

“Why don’t you go upstairs and put yesterday’s things on? Then we can go… We can go to your grannies and collect your things.” Harry said, a discomfort settling over him that had little to do with the heavier than expected weight of the three year old in his lap.

Teddy nodded mutely and dropped off of Harry’s lap, silently leaving the kitchen. As Teddy’s footsteps could be heard ascending the staircase Harry heard the sharp screech of chair legs against the stone kitchen floor. 

He snapped his head up in surprise to see Malfoy; Harry had forgotten he was still sitting there. As he looked, he noticed the sad, worried look which had softened Malfoy’s angular features and the way Malfoy’s eyes were wet with unshed tears. 

“I’ll go and make sure he gets dressed ok.” Malfoy said, slowly making his way toward the kitchen door. When he reached it, he turned over his shoulder, shooting Harry one last look. “You… You did well, Potter.” 

Harry swallowed thickly, looking up to meet Malfoy’s gaze. Wet green eyes met wet grey ones and Harry found that any words died in his throat; what could he possibly say? Instead, he nodded, waiting until Malfoy had closed the door behind him and his footsteps had faded away to silence before he put his head in his hands and allowed the tears to overtake him, the pot of coffee cold and forgotten.  
\-----

Returning to Andromeda’s house had been difficult to say the least. Thankfully, Harry had taken two weeks leave from the Auror offices when he found out about Andromeda’s passing and his new found guardianship of Teddy. Malfoy (who, of course, had nowhere he needed to be in England) had declined the invitation and, in all honesty, Harry had been glad he had. Teddy hadn’t spoken a word as Harry had packed his wardrobe into a trunk, taking care to fold each item of clothing with care and precision. He had found the repetitive movements comforting and soon enough the trunk was full. Harry charmed it to become pocket size before pulling out another bag. 

“This is for anything else you want to keep.” Harry had explained to the silent youngster as he looked around the room for an example. His eyes had fallen on a small, stuffed dragon on his bed. “Like this, he wants to come and live with us too, doesn’t he?” Harry asked, forcing a smile as he picked up the red cuddly toy. 

Teddy had nodded mutely and Harry had placed the dragon into the bag. He had helped Teddy select a wide range of toys from his bedroom and pack them away, although Teddy offered no more than nods of approval to Harry’s suggestions. Once all the toys had been sorted through they had descended the stairs and went into the sitting room. The breath caught in Harry’s throat as he looked at the fireplace; a sight he had seen many times before but was now more painful than ever. 

He had stepped forward, running his fingertips over the glided frame of the first photo he picked up. In it Tonks and Lupin we’re beaming, proudly holding their new born son in their arms. It was, as far as Harry knew, the only photograph the three had taken before… Tucking the photograph under his arm and pushing the thought away he moved onto the next. It had been taken a year ago at Teddy’s second birthday party. In it, Andromeda sat beside a beaming Teddy who was presented with a huge chocolate cake. Excitement swept the young boys features as he puffed out his cheeks and blew out the candles, Andromeda smiling lovingly beside him before the scene replayed itself. As Harry watched again he had stared closer, into Andromeda’s eyes, trying to see the sadness he must have missed.

Why didn’t you tell us? We could have helped. Harry had silently pleaded with the witch in the photograph before he remembered Teddy was waiting with him. He then crouched down, both photographs in hand to show. 

“We can bring these and I can put them on your beside table.” Harry had explained, allowing Teddy to carefully examine each photo although he’d probably watched them a thousand times before. “Then you can always have mummy, daddy and granny looking down on you. Keeping you safe.” 

Harry had watched as Teddy let his fingers ghost over photo-Andromeda before he looked up at Harry and nodded. A small, sad smile tugged at his lips, but it was a smile all the same. Harry offered one in return, pleased he had managed to get something right. 

The rest of the evening had followed in a similar silence. Harry and Teddy had been at Andromeda’s for hours without realising it, when they had returned home it had been time to prepare dinner. With no time left to go shopping after they returned home the meal had once again been a simple affair, and once again Malfoy didn’t complain. Yet without Teddy’s excitable chatter to fill the room as they ate the three sat in silence, Harry or Malfoy sometimes trying in vain to strike up conversations with Teddy which were met with little more than nods in response. 

"This is my house now, isn't it?" Teddy asked that night, breaking his silence as Harry tucked him beneath his patterned sheets, the newly acquired photographs sitting proudly beside his bed. 

"Yes," Harry whispered, smoothing back Teddy's hair and attempting a smile despite the emotion held in his innocent question. Teddy nodded in response, settling back against his pillow. 

"Is it going to be Draco's house too?" Teddy asked, causing Hardy to freeze in surprise. It seemed Teddy, no matter his young age, had developed a keen ability to read situations. Harry sat in silence for the longest moment, wondering how to respond. Thankfully, the silence didn't seem to bother Teddy. "He's my cousin, you know." He informed Harry with a smile.

Harry had clutched at the turn in conversation, at the first real smile Teddy had offered since that morning, and nodded. "I know." 

Teddy's eyes had slowly fluttered closed and, within no time at all, his breathing shallowed and he was fast asleep. Harry rose from the bed, taking a long look at his sleeping godson and the photographs which stood beside him before creeping from the room. 

He quietly padded down the stairs, in search of the kitchen and a steaming mug of hot chocolate to ease his mind before he retired to bed. When he reached the kitchen he once again found Malfoy sitting at the table, a mug already clasped in his hands.

“I er- I hope you don’t mind.” He said, nodding slightly toward the drink in his hands.

“I already said I didn’t,” Harry replied as he headed over to the counter and poured steaming hot water from the kettle into a mug he heaped with coco powder. 

“That was for… Never mind.” Malfoy trailed off, looking down at the mug in his hands. Harry knew the words he hadn’t spoken ‘that was for Teddy’ he assumed Malfoy would have said but Harry was glad he didn’t. He didn’t want any more awkward conversation, any more carefully chosen words. 

Harry sipped his drink in silence, choosing to lean against the kitchen counter rather than join Malfoy at the table. After a moment of silence Malfoy stood brushing past Harry as he placed his used mug into the sink.

“Tomorrow I’ll need to go back to France.” He announced, breaking the silence between them. “Arrangements need to be made to sell the house… I’ll have to pack up my things and… I’ll have to find someone to take over my shop.” Malfoy stopped and the tips of his ears reddened slightly as he realised he was listing his jobs aloud and that Harry probably didn’t care. Which he didn’t, not really; although he was intrigued to see Malfoy embarrassed. “I’ll go in the morning, after I’ve said goodbye to Teddy, I don’t want him thinking…” Malfoy trailed off, silence falling again as the pair recalled the painful conversation held in the kitchen that morning. 

Harry nodded mutely to show he understood and watched as Malfoy swept from the kitchen. Staring down at the half filled mug in his hands he sighed and poured the contents down the sink, he wasn’t in the mood for drinking. Not for drinking anything that weak, anyway. His eyes lingered on a bottle of firewhisky, high on a kitchen shelf way beyond Teddy’s reach. After a moment he decided against it, shaking his head to himself as he dragged his tired body to bed. 

-x-

The first day of Malfoy’s absence passed quickly. He had, as he said he would, waited until morning so he could say goodbye to Teddy. That morning Harry had collected Teddy from his room and taken him downstairs to the kitchen where Malfoy was already waiting, full dressed in a travelling cloak and with his trunk beside him.

He had bent down to Teddy’s level as Harry had let the boy drop from his arms, his sharp, angular features softening slightly under the smile he had worn to talk to him. He hadn’t, Harry gladly noted, used the words ‘going away’ to describe his absence to Teddy. Instead he had told him that now he was going to be living in England, he had to go back to France and pack up his house. Harry had watched on as Teddy nodded, leaving him once again taken aback by how much his godson seemed to know about Malfoy. Malfoy had offered Harry nothing more than a short nod and a curt “Potter” before pulling out a small, yet ornate silver orb which – as Malfoy spun, disappearing on the spot – Harry quickly determined to be a portkey. Harry had rolled his eyes to himself as Malfoy disappeared; portkeys were usually everyday objects like… boots or teaspoons – not fancy silver orbs. Trust Malfoy to demand the highest quality in everything. 

The rest of that day passed as if it were being sped up by the opposite of a Status Spell. Harry fed and dressed Teddy, taking him out to muggle London to stock the empty cupboards with food. He took a small comfort in allowing Teddy to choose popular muggle treats; chocolate biscuits, bags of jelly bears, fizzy drinks – all the things Harry had seen as a child, but never been allowed to touch. Of course he wouldn’t let Teddy have them all at once – but the treats seemed a small consolation for the pain he knew the young boy must be feeling. He was still aware that Teddy’s favourite drink – pumpkin juice – was missing from his cupboards. Despite this, he didn’t have to strength to go to Diagon Alley, or even Hogsmeade, and deal with the eyes of the wizarding world, sympathetic, offering empty words of sorry whilst using the apology to sneak a conversation with their hero, to shake the hand of the chosen one. When the time came for Harry to put Teddy to bed, he hadn’t thought of Malfoy once.

Harry was halfway through a book about a young witch and her mischievous talking cat, hoping to soothe Teddy into a peaceful sleep with the happy tale, when he spoke, breaking his void of silence.

“When will Draco come home?” He asked, peering up at Harry from his pillow.

“I don’t know.” Harry answered in reply, for it was the truth. Until that moment, he hadn’t thought of Malfoy; of what he was doing, where he was or how long he would be. Truth be told he had been, in fact, rather relieved with his absence, relishing in the way he no longer felt uneasy in his own home. 

“Soon, I promise.” Harry added, yet that part was a lie. Until that moment, he hadn’t cared for Malfoy to return at all; however, as wide, innocent eyes bore up at him, speaking the first real words they had since learning of his grandmothers death, Harry found himself wishing – for Teddy – that Malfoy would return. Teddy said nothing in response, his eyes flickering back down to the book Harry held open against his lap. He picked up where he left off – halfway through a scene where the cat was singing in a bathtub – and allowed his thoughts to wander off as he read on. First, he couldn’t deny the jealousy which bubbled within him as he thought of how much Malfoy must mean to Teddy. As he thought of this, his thoughts warped to how that meant Teddy must like Malfoy more than Harry, and how Harry wasn’t good enough. Then his thoughts moved on to an irrational desire to prove he could best Malfoy in some way, to find a way in which he could cheer Teddy up which would not involve Malfoy’s return. By the time the story was finished and Teddy was fast asleep in his arms Harry slipped away with the resolute – and absolutely ridiculous – notion that if he could get his hands on some pumpkin juice before the morning, he would be Teddy’s favourite again.

Not particularly caring for the time, Harry left Teddy’s room and moved upstairs to in search of parchment, quill, ink and Otus. The latter was Harry’s dark brown spectacled owl; true to his breed, he had dark circles rimming his wide, amber eyes, giving the suggestion of a pair of glasses. It had taken Harry some time, and countless missed messages, to admit he needed a new owl. He didn’t count the new owl as replacing Hedwig, for as soppy as it may make him seem, he knew she could never be replaced. He remembered the day he purchased Otus fondly; he had taken Teddy to Diagon Alley after telling him he needed his help to choose an owl. Teddy had instantly warmed to Otus, insisting Harry buy him without taking much more than a slight glance at the other owls on offer. When Harry had asked why Teddy didn’t want to look at any of the other owls Teddy had simply replied;

“He looks like you, Uncle Harry. Look, he’s got your glasses.”

Harry smiled at the memory and, with Otus now following, headed downstairs to the his sitting room. His note was short, telling Hermione he had run out of pumpkin juice and asking if she could pick some up for Teddy. When Otus had flown proudly through Harry’s open window he sat back, forgetting his thoughts as he watched the flames in his hearth flicker, warm and golden.  
As the flames turned a sudden, bright emerald Harry jumped back in surprise. Before Harry had time to register that the change in colour meant an incoming Floo, Hermione had stepped out of the grate and was shaking soot from her clothes. 

"Hermione?" He asked by way of greeting, knowing he was gaping a little in surprise. 

"Oh, Harry!" The witch replied, instantly stepping forward and gathering him into a suffocating hug. Again, Harry was surprised. Such displays from Hermione only usually came in dangerous or upsetting circumstances; an impending task fighting a dragon in the Triwizard Tornument, or defeating the Darkest wizard of all time, for example. 

Stepping back and eyeing him carefully, she began to explain herself. "I'm sorry, I know you don't like people barging in..." She trailed off, wearing an expression of a particularly pained puppy. She was right; Harry valued his privacy. The wards of his home only accepted Floo visits from Ron and Hermione and Floo calls from the wider Weasley family. Even his Auror partner had to owl him if he wanted to communicate; and that was a luxury in itself, as the wards Harry had placed around his home also stopped letters from everyone but a small selection of people. "But... We've been so worried Harry. Of course, we heard about Andromeda and I wrote but..." As she paused this time, Harry felt a heat of guilt crossing the back his neck. He knew the letter she was talking of; it came the day after Andromeda's death, the day before Harry went to the Ministry to collect Teddy and become his guardian. Harry had recognised her familiar, neat script but had declined to read the words they formed. 

"Sorry, I er - I've been busy..." Harry excused pathetically, realising now how worried his friend must be after writing to him about Andromeda's death and only, three days later, receiving an owl about pumpkin juice in return. 

"Of course, of course." Hermione replied with a wave of her hand, dismissing Harry's apology. "We expected as much, but still, we worried." 

Harry warmed at his friends accepting, forgiving nature but his thoughts had returned to the reason for his letter in the first place. "Could you bring some pumpkin juice?" 

Hermione slipped a hand in her pocket, pulling out a tiny bottle which she returned to size with an expert flick of her wand. A full bottle of pumpkin juice was now clenched in her palm. "How is he?" She asked softly, thankfully choosing not to comment on Harry's insane request. Harry didn't think he wanted to admit the reasoning behind it to anyone; as understanding as Hermione was, his response of 'I need to make Teddy happy so he likes Malfoy more than me' sounded crazy even to his own ears. 

"Quiet, upset. He didn't even know, at first, I had to tell him..." Harry broke off, taking the pumpkin juice from her grasp to busy himself, to avoid feeling the welling of emotion as he recalled the heartbreaking conversation. 

"Oh, Harry.. I can't imagine..." Hermione whispered, looking genuinely horrified as her now empty hand ghosted across a slightly rounded stomach. Harry glanced down, watching the path her movements took. He was surprised for a second to see the swell there, although it was only the blossoming evidence of a fact he already knew. It was the size of the bump that surprised him; the last time he had spoken to Hermione, she told him excitedly of her and Ron's news, before they had told either of their parents. As Harry now watched her caress the slight swell of her stomach, he realised with growing how long ago that conversation had been. 

"Maybe you and Ron, if you're not busy that is, could come over for dinner tomorrow?" Harry asked in attempt to ease the guilt that was now gnawing away at him. "I mean, it would definitely be good for Teddy to have some familiar faces around." Familiar faces that aren't Draco Malfoy, Harry added, but only in his mind. 

The smile he got in return was one of genuine happiness, as Hermione nodded happily. "Of course we can! I know Ron's worried too, I mean, he misses you. I know you work together, but with having different partners..." She trailed off and Harry nodded. He and Ron had trained as Auror's together, keeping a close knit friendship even as he broke things off with Ginny, even as he told his best friend he was gay. But they weren't partners - the department thought it best to 'spread their expertise' - and slowly, as his and Hermione's relationship moved forward, their contact had faded. 

"Tomorrow, then. 6 o'clock." Harry said, forcing away the unpleasant thoughts. Hermione smiled and nodded once more, giving him a brief hug and a wave of farewell before she disappeared into the flames, calling out the address of the home she and Ron shared together. 

Before Harry retired to bed that night, he stared for a long while at one of the photos on his sitting room wall. It was of himself, Ron and Hermione on their wedding day just over a year ago. Harry watched as the trio smiled and laughed for the camera and as Ron placed a kiss on his new wife's cheek. Harry knew, with an uncomfortable twist of his stomach, that this was when his contact with them both had begun to slip. Harry had slowly brought himself back, watching their happiness from a distance. Not resenting it, he promised himself, just watching it. 

That night as he closed his eyes, Harry found himself willing his own tired thoughts to believe that he'd invited his friends for dinner to renew their fading friendship, not to provide Teddy with a distraction from Malfoy. Not to make sure Teddy could enjoy himself with Harry, without Malfoy around. Not to make sure that he became Teddy's favourite again. 

But if Harry couldn't convince himself, then were his own excuses at all true? 

\------------

Harry had once again found himself waking Teddy the next morning, as if the sadness which now weighed on the young boys heart also weight on his energy. Whenever Teddy slept over in the past he would be wake long before Harry, excitedly bouncing on the end of his bed, asking what they would do that day before he returned home to his grandmother.

Except now, he never would.

Harry pushed the sadness way, instead focusing all his efforts on cheering up the young wizard. He told him that Ron and Hermione, who Teddy had met before, were coming for dinner and asked if Teddy would like to help him bake a cake. In all honesty, Harry was terrible at baking, but he knew Teddy had enjoyed making cakes with his grandmother and was desperate to find something to bring a smile to his face once again.

Because, of course, the pumpkin juice hadn’t worked; how could pumpkin juice replace a grandmother?

They set about their cake – a simple sponge, which Harry planned to let Teddy decorate in whichever way he liked – with Harry reading instructions from one of the many cookery and baking books he’d been given by Mrs Weasley when he first insisted on living alone (she’d made a great fuss of making sure he’d be eating properly, but as of yet the books had all lay untouched). Teddy followed Harry’s every instruction, from carefully pouring eggs Harry had cracked into the flour to mixing the ingredients with a wooden spoon which was ridiculously oversized for Teddy’s small grip, but was the only one Harry had been able to find. The cake soon went into the oven and Harry made lunch as it baked. When Harry’s wand glowed with the familiar red light of the modified Tempus charm which served as a timer, he bent down to the oven to retrieve their cake.

Harry groaned inwardly as he pulled the attempt from the heat; it wasn’t burnt, but it wasn’t cooked properly, either. The outer edges were golden, suggesting the illusion of a perfect cake, yet the inside had sagged and sunk pitifully, leaving a shrunken, deflated lump on the tray. 

Harry quickly murmured “Engorgio”, using the charm to double the size of the cake so it looked a little more presentable. He plastered a smile onto his face as he presented the tray and a range of decorating tools to Teddy, but as he watched on he couldn’t help feeling that the cake and his shoddy attempt to improve it was a perfect metaphor for his current feelings; pathetic and hopeless. All he wanted to do was to make Teddy smile again. 

He threw himself into preparing dinner and giving Teddy a bath before Ron and Hermione arrived. When they did, Ron greeted him with a large slap on the back.

“Harry, mate, I know Hermione’s said, but we’re sorry.” His best friends face was earnest as the apology left his lips and Harry gave a nod in appreciation of the gesture. 

“Thanks, Ron.” He replied, watching as Hermione bent to greet Teddy, speaking softly to him as they took a seat on the sofa in the sitting room. Harry took the opportunity to slip away into the kitchen until their meal was ready. When it was he called them through and they sat together, eating at the table. Harry watched on as Hermione made conversation with Teddy, naturally chatting to the young boy as if he was replying with enthusiasm to her every word. Teddy didn’t appear as upset as he had done, but he was still quiet, still yet to smile. Ron joined in just as happily, chatting away to Teddy about dragons and broomsticks whenever his wife fell silent. As Harry cleared the plates, he watched as Ron leant over and placed a tender hand on his wife’s stomach. The sight made his stomach twist painfully; that simple gesture, the love a mother and father had for their child, was something Teddy would never truly have. It was also, Harry knew, something he would never experience for himself. He would never have a wife, never tenderly cradle a pregnant stomach, never seen his own child born. As his gaze shifted to Teddy, who was glugging down his second glass of pumpkin juice, Harry admitted several things to himself. He knew Ron and Hermione’s happiness was part of the reason his contact with them had slipped; although he was happy for them, their love made Harry feel like an outsider, like he was watching something he would never have. Secondly, he now knew, why Malfoy’s presence bothered him so much; he wanted to be the most important person in Teddy’s life now, he wanted to take the role that Hermione and Ron were soon to take, that Andromeda had little time to fulfil and Remus and Tonks even less so. 

“Uncle Harry?” Teddy asked as he put down his empty glass. 

“Yes?”

“Will Malfoy be back tomorrow?” 

As the question spilled from Teddy’s lips, Harry watched the way Hermione and Ron’s jaws dropped open in surprise. Avoiding their questioning gazes, he turned to Teddy with a shrug.

“I don’t know, Teddy, I told you. I’m sorry.” He said, and he was. Sorry that he couldn’t give him an answer, sorry that he couldn’t cheer Teddy up, sorry that Malfoy once again appeared to best him in Teddy’s affections. 

Instead of responding to Harry’s words, Teddy let out a long, drawn out yawn. Harry seized the opportunity, standing to stride across and lift him into his arms. “Bedtime for you, Ted.” He announced, offering Ron and Hermione a small, brief smile that didn’t reach his eyes before he swept from the room and upstairs to Teddy’s room. He relished in the warmth in his arms and the way Teddy burrowed closer, finding comfort in his embrace. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow, eyes softly closed as Harry tucked the covers of his bed around him. He watched the young boy sleep for a moment, knowing nothing but questions waited for him downstairs. With a sigh he carefully and quietly closed Teddy’s bedroom door and crept back to the room in which he knew his friends would still be waiting.

Waiting they were, but they asked nothing. Instead they sat, staring at Harry, silently willing him for an explanation. Harry allowed the words to tumble from his lips, detailing everything from the moment he entered Carin’s office to find Malfoy waiting, to the morning the blonde had returned to France to sort his affairs.

“Now Teddy won’t stop asking about him..” Harry sighed as his speech came to a close, knowing his face betrayed the resentment he felt. 

“That’s only natural, Harry.” Hermione said soothingly, reaching out across the table to place a hand over his. “He’s already lost so much, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t want you, just that he doesn’t want to lose anyone else…” 

Harry knew her words were true yet they did little to console him. Deep down he did know that Teddy would be the same if it was Harry who had left but it didn’t stop the burning jealousy which consumed him when he thought of the influence Malfoy clearly had on Teddy’s life.

“It’s surprising, though, that Malfoy’s willing to completely abandon his life to move over here for Teddy. I can understand that his mother wanted to build bridges again after the war, but I never thought… I mean, to drop your entire life and move, especially to a country where many of the wizards still disregard your name… He must have changed to do something like that… I mean, I know you supported him at the trials, and you were right, he’s not evil… But this, this is more…” Hermione muttered on and Harry restrained himself from sighing aloud at her constant need to think aloud. He didn’t want to hear about how big of a gesture Malfoy was making, or how he must have changed, or anything that shed any form of positive light on the git. He especially didn’t want any acknowledgement of how Harry had been the first to tell the wizarding world Malfoy wasn’t evil – his current overwhelmingly bitter mood as enough to almost make him wish he hadn’t said a word and left him to rot.

Almost.

Thankfully, Ron was much more on his level.

“So the ferrets actually living here then?” He asked, receiving a sharp elbow in his ribs from Hermione for his comment. 

“Yes.” Harry sighed, raking his hands through his hair. “I had to offer, at least until he gets his money through from selling his properties in France and can find somewhere over here. The sooner the better, I say.”

Ron nodded and Harry was glad to have his agreement.

“Guardianship is a serious thing though Harry. You’ll both be responsible for Teddy, everything that happens in his life…” Hermione spoke up again and Harry had to resist the temptation to growl in annoyance. She certainly had a talent for making Harry face truths he didn’t want to. He would, as long as he loved and cared for Teddy, have Malfoy in his life. 

He faked a yawn, over exaggerating the gesture. It was, actually, quite late and although he wasn’t tired he sought solace in his own company. Put more bluntly, he wanted to wallow in his own self-pity. 

“We should go.” Hermione said, standing as soon as she saw Harry’s yawn. “Make sure you look after yourself, Harry. You know where we are if you need us, please don’t forget that…” The look she gave him as she spoke made Harry’s hard mood soften, guilt once again rising within him for turning her away so easily. 

“I know, thank you.” He said, rising to his feet to accept the hug she offered. Followed them through to the sitting room where the fire roared and would allow them to Floo home. With another farewell hug Hermione disappeared into the flames but Ron hung back.

“Seriously, mate, I know you’ve got a lot on but… We do worry about you. Don’t forget about us, ok? Especially now you’ve got Teddy and that git to deal with.” Ron clapped Harry firmly on his back, the strength of the manly gesture clearly over exaggerated to balance out his emotional words. “Like Hermione said, we’re always here. Make sure you remember that.”

“I know, thank you.” He replied, repeating the same words he had to Hermione. He watched his friend disappear into the flames and released a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. In the same instance, a large horned owl tapped sharply on the glass of the sitting room window. Harry hurried over to allow the bird in; he didn’t recognise it, yet he knew not anyone could get back his homes wards. He took the parchment and uncurled it, reading the neat, looped script which covered the page.

Potter,

Everything is in order here and I shall be returning to England tomorrow. In the papers we signed at the Ministry, there was a clause that allowed contact between ourselves to be permitted as we are both Teddy’s guardians, so I know this owl will get through your wards. However, I think my physical presence will have less success getting past them as it wasn’t explicitly stated that we would be sharing a residence. I was, of course, allowed into your home in the first instance as I arrived with you and did not leave during that time. I will return at 12 noon tomorrow and I would appreciate it if you could allow the wards to accept my direct return.

Malfoy

Harry sneered openly at the note in his hands, only looking up as he felt a brush of wind as the large owl flew out of the window – apparently Malfoy wasn’t expecting a reply. He closed the window behind the bird, and threw the note into the flames, watching as the parchment turned to ash. He knew, however, that he had little choice than to alter the wards for Malfoy’s return. He lifted his wand and murmured the elaborate Latin which would expose the wards to his magic. As an old, pureblood property, the ancient Black house had many layers of wards which could take hours and significant magical drain to work through. However Harry only had to alter the layer of wards set most recently, the ones he set himself as the owner of the property. He opened the wards which controlled his post, recognising the new name added to the persons whom were permitted to pass letters through the wards.

Draco Malfoy

Obviously he should read magical contracts more thoroughly before he signed them in future, Harry thought to himself as he wrapped his magic around the name. It would have been pointless anyway, he conceded, as he would need to contact Malfoy if they were to both be Teddy’s guardians – it was hardly a point he could have disputed. His magic was now securely connected to Malfoy’s name and Harry concentrated his mind and his magic on allowing the wards which controlled direct access to Harry’s home to connect to Malfoy’s signature. When he felt the tingle of magic which told him the wards had altered, Harry opened his eyes and murmured the incantation which would close the wards once more. 

On his way to bed he paused at Teddy’s door, pushing it open to allow the slightest crack through which Harry could gaze at his sleeping godson. 

“Tomorrow..” He whispered through the gap in the door, as if his answer to Teddy’s earlier question would seep through into his dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Harry didn’t tell Teddy that Malfoy was coming home. He told himself he was keeping the secret in the hope that the element of surprise in seeing Malfoy again would cheer Teddy up. What he knew, however, was different; that he wasn’t telling Teddy about Malfoy’s return just to keep their bubble a little longer. 

Just so he wouldn’t have to see Malfoy’s name be the one that made Teddy smile again. 

Teddy was sitting in Harry’s lap in a large, cushioned chair in the sitting room, listening to the story of the witch and her talking cat once again when the flames roared into life, shining emerald. Malfoy stepped out of the flames, brushing soot from his robes and glancing around the room. As Teddy saw the wizard appear he leapt from Harry’s lap, throwing his arms around Malfoy’s legs.

“Draco!” He called out, his cry muffled his insistence to bury his head into Malfoy’s robe clad legs.

“Hey Ted.” Malfoy replied, a smiling crossing his face as he bent down to ruffle the young boys hair. Harry’s heart twisted at the affectionate sight and he could feel the frustration rolling off him in waves. For a wild moment he was sure Malfoy felt it too because he chose that second to lift his head, nodding stiffly in Harry’s direction.

“Potter.” He said, greeting Harry in the same way he had left.

“Malfoy.” He replied, equally stiffly. They held each others gaze for a moment before Teddy lifted his head from Malfoy’s legs, looking between the pair with a puzzled expression.

“Why do you say Potter and Malfoy?” He asked, looking from Malfoy to Harry slowly. “Your names Draco, and your names Uncle Harry.” He explained, as if they didn’t know their names, as his gaze travelled back to Harry. 

“I’m your Uncle Harry.” Harry explained, even though he wasn’t technically Teddy’s uncle it was what he’d always been known as. “I’m not Uncle Harry to everyone.” He added, clinging to an explanation which wouldn’t require him to delve into their deep schoolboy rivalry, darkened by hatred and war then left to stale, awkward through a tentative support, a half-forgiveness and a need to forget. 

Because, of course, three year olds could not understand such things.

Thankfully Teddy accepted the explanation, letting go of Malfoy’s legs and climbing back onto Harry’s lap. 

“Can we finish the story?” He asked as he settled back in his previous position and Harry felt all the frustration evaporate as if it literally poured from his body. Yes, there was no denying that Teddy was obviously happy to see Malfoy again; this was the most he’d spoken since he’d learned that his grandmother wouldn’t be coming back. But, in the same instance, his ease in letting go and returning to their story had shown he still appreciated Harry. The gesture, innocent and unsuspecting as it was, warmed Harry’s heart. 

He picked the book up – although he probably could recite the words in his sleep by now – and began to read once again. He watched, out of the corner of his eye, as Malfoy watched on then slowly retreated, leaving the room without a sound. 

\--

The next few days continued in a similar way. Each would spend time with Teddy, who was slowly but surely returning to normal conversation – asking questions, requesting stories and games, talking about things which made little sense unless you were three years old. At the same time an unspoken agreement had been reached; if Harry was spending time with Teddy Malfoy would stay away, remaining in his bedroom or the kitchen, drinking endless cups of coffee. Similarly, when Harry walked into the kitchen to find Malfoy and Teddy sharing a drink and a chat, or into the sitting room to find them playing with one of Teddy’s toys, he would quietly retreat. He had no desire to watch the scenes unfold, no desire to see just how close the pair were. 

They ate together, of course, because Teddy would no doubt find anything else strange. The meals were usually subdued affairs, Teddy making all the chatter – but often more interested in his food – as the two wizards avoided each other’s gazes. 

One night, after Harry had put Teddy to bed, he found the resolve he needed to seek out Malfoy. He knew he had to ask Malfoy something because he would never forgive himself if not. He may not like Malfoy, he may never want him living under his roof or caring for his godson, but he had to accept that he himself had said – before a full Wizengamot, reported to the entire wizarding nation in the Prophet – that Malfoy wasn’t evil. So, as he knew Malfoy wasn’t evil (and the Gryffindor in him would never allow him to do otherwise, anyway) he knew he had to ask. 

He followed the corridors which would lead him to the room he had offered to Malfoy, a room he had not returned to since he had done. He hesitated for a moment in front of it before knocking firmly and waiting.

And waiting.

Although Harry knew he had knocked loud enough, he lifted his knuckles once more and let them rap against the wood again.

No answer.

Fine, Harry sneered to himself, he can ignore me and be a git all he likes. I tried. 

Harry tried to ignore the satisfaction building in him – that he wouldn’t, after all, have to ask Malfoy what he had come to ask and, if people questioned him, he could quite happily inform them that it was Malfoys own fault, thank you very much. 

Feeling much happier, he turned around to stalk away and find himself a drink – 

and smacked into the wall, pale and hard.

Except… the wall was also warm, and slightly wet… and moving?

Harry snapped his gaze up and found himself face to face with Malfoy, and found that the wall that he’d bumped into was in fact Malfoy’s – very naked – chest. He stood in nothing more than a towel, his hair and body still slightly damp, the obvious after effects of a shower. Of course Malfoy wouldn’t dress to walk from the bathroom to his room, it was only a few feet and – thanks to the narrow, tall nature of the Black house, the floor on which Malfoy slept was normally unoccupied by anyone else. 

Their eyes caught and Harry shifted awkwardly, looking anywhere but Malfoy’s chest. A raised eyebrow was all Malfoy gave to coolly ask for an explanation. 

“I – I needed to talk to you… About something. I –“ Harry closed his lips firmly, stopping his mumbling. He would not mutter away like an awkward teenager just because Malfoy wasn’t wearing clothes. “Meet me in the kitchen when you’re ready.” He instructed, finding the authoritative tone he used when in the field. He swept away without a backwards glance, hoping with everything he had that the embarrassed flush which covered his cheeks had waited until he had passed Malfoy to appear. He tried to convince himself he had the upper hand by not revealing to Malfoy what he wanted to ask, but was scolded by the way he’d fumbled about like a fourth year who had just discovered alternative extra-curricular activities. 

Once he reached the kitchen he busied himself by putting on the kettle to clear his mind. Suddenly he had an urge to reach for something a lot stronger – but he refused to let Malfoy affect him in any way. It had been a while since… Well, it had been a while since anything actually. Since discovering his sexuality Harry had… experimented often going out to muggle clubs and bars and dancing with willing muggle men. More than willing muggle men. He’d never had anything serious, anything that constituted as a relationship or even lasted more than a few weeks, but he had enjoyed his freedom. Yet with Andromeda’s death, and the increasing pressure of his career before that, it had been a while since Harry had visited any of his usual spots and it had certainly been a long time since he saw another man like that.

That’s what it was, Harry knew. It wasn’t anything to do with Malfoy, it was simply to do with the fact that he happened to be a man, an almost naked man, in Harry’s house and Harry just so happened to find men attractive, especially almost naked ones. But he wouldn’t make that mistake again, he assured himself. It wasn’t like Malfoy was even his type.

Although, truthfully, Harry didn’t exactly have a type. 

The kettle whistled and disrupted his mind from its ramblings and he poured its contents into two large mugs; one for himself, containing a tea bag and two spoons of sugar heaped so high it would be much easier to have three, and one for Malfoy, containing a large spoon of coffee, with no sugar. He turned to the table, mugs in hand, when Malfoy entered the room. 

He had, very thankfully, dressed, although his hair was still damp. Without a word he slid up to the table and sat himself down, accepting the drink that Harry pushed towards him with an openly surprised expression.

“Did you put sugar in?” He asked, inspecting the black coffee as if Harry providing him with his preferred drink after a post-shower, almost naked corridor meeting was an entirely normal occurrence, which of course it wasn’t.

Neither was Harry’s apparently consistent desire to continually think about the fact he had just seen Malfoy almost naked and he quickly brushed the thought away.

“No, I’ve seen you make it enough mornings now.” Harry replied as he sank into a chair at the other side of the table, opposite Malfoy. What his words implied were that Harry had seen Malfoy make his morning coffee every day since he had taken up residence in the Black house and had learnt how he liked his coffee – which he had. What his words did not admit was that all this did was reaffirm the observation that Harry had made during sixth year where his obsessive watching of Malfoy’s every move had also meant he’d discovered just how the blonde wizard liked his coffee.

Malfoy nodded, taking the mug between his hands and across at Harry. “So… You had something to ask?” Malfoy asked, his tone was carefully measured, as controlled as his face was – guardedly arranged into expressionless lines. Luckily for Harry his observations of Malfoy in sixth year had provided much more than information about how he liked his coffee; they had told him much deeper secrets, such as how if you caught Malfoy’s gaze in the right moment, in just the right way, his cool grey eyes would flash, betrayed the emotions his careful mask wouldn’t and that if you watched his lips as he spoke, although the words were calm and controlled, he would lick his lips afterward in a show of nerves. It was always a small, subtle gesture, a quick dart of a pointy tongue, but Harry had learnt to notice it.

So as Malfoy’s tongue slicked his bottom lip Harry found comfort in knowing that, despite his earlier mumblings, he had not embarrassed himself. 

“It’s Andromeda’s funeral tomorrow.” Harry said, aware he was providing a statement and not a question as promised. “I’ve been organising most of it, since she has little family left. I had planned for it to be quite small, but apparently the Prophet had other ideas.” Harry grimaced as he remembered this morning’s headline ‘WAR ORPHAN ALONE AGAIN AS GRANDMOTHER DIES’ the article had outlined Andromeda’s death and rehashed the tragic details of Teddy’s life so far. The articles writer had also taken it upon themselves to announce the time and place of her funeral so that ‘friends, well-wishers and sympathisers could say farewell to another fallen hero of the war, lest we ever forget’ – although the words were touching Harry had been furious. He knew Andromeda had never wanted publicity for her or Teddy – she had chased away reporters with a fury Harry had never seen when they approached for the war anniversary special addition of the prophet, who had said they wanted to dedicate a page to Teddy who they had dubbed ‘the face of the new world. He was scarred by tragedy, they had said, but free to succeed in the new, bright wizarding world, they had eagerly added. It was part of the reason why Harry had been so fond of the old witch. He had no idea how they’d gained the information, and if he ever found out, there would be hell to pay. 

The articles only redeeming feature had been that there was no detail of Teddy’s newfound guardianship.

Malfoy hadn’t had chance to see it - Harry had thrown the paper into the ashes as soon as he’d finished the article – so the news of the funeral date was indeed news to him. 

“So, since I’m the one doing most of the organising, I guess it’s my place to ask you if you’d like to come. I know you must have been much closer to her than I ever knew. And… It’d be good for Teddy, if we were both there.” Harry added the last part grudgingly; as much as he didn’t like admitting it, Teddy liked Malfoy and Malfoy appeared to be fond of him too. It would help having two people to keep him grounded through the trials of the day. 

“Teddy’s going?” Malfoy asked, smoothly raising an eyebrow to Harry. 

Harry bristled, as if Malfoy was questioning his judgement. “Yes.” He said, more than a little defensively. “I talked to him about it, I said people would be sad, but they would be saying goodbye to his granny. He said he wanted to say bye too.” Harry knew by this point his chin was raised in defiance and he was fighting the urge to curl his hands into fists. He had forgotten, until that point, that legally Malfoy had as much of a right to say if Teddy should attend as Harry did.

“Relax, Potter.” Malfoy said, shaking his head in obvious contempt of Harry’s clear frustration. “I happen to agree with you, I attended the funerals of every member of Malfoy and Black ancestry throughout my childhood. Well, at least the Black’s mother spoke to.” Malfoy amended as he reached the end of his speech. “It’s expected in proper wizarding culture, I just thought you’d be far too noble about taking a child to such things.” 

Harry relaxed at the realisation that Malfoy wasn’t going to fight him on Teddy’s attendance but bristled with anger again at his final words, which Harry was sure were meant as an insult; only a Slytherin could make nobility an insult. 

“I’m taking him because it will be good for him to say goodbye. He deserves a chance to say goodbye.” Harry allowed himself to take a moment to think of how, when his parents had died, and when Teddy’s had too, there had been no choice like this. However sad the day may be Teddy would, at least, know he had the chance to say goodbye. “I’m not taking him because I’m noble and certainly not because it is expected.” Harry was sure he spat the last word, finding his frustration overtook him far too easily where Malfoy and insults were concerned. Then again, it always had. 

“Whatever your reasons, Potter, I agree.” Malfoy said mildly, draining the last of the coffee that he’d quickly been making his way thought. “I also…. I also would like to attend.” He added, his face softening from the almost argument the pair had begun. “She was a brilliant witch and, you’re right, Teddy would benefit from having us both there.”

Unsure what to say at the sudden change in direction and emotion, Harry merely nodded. The words were true, Andromeda had been a brilliant witch – he just hadn’t expected Malfoy to say that. He allowed his words to sink in for a moment, and considered his own words before. He’d begun to accept the influence Malfoy had on Teddy’s life; but he hadn’t considered the impact Andromeda and Malfoy may have had on each other, the relationship they may have had, without Harry ever knowing. “He would. And…” Harry paused, slowly bringing his eyes to seek Malfoy’s. “I know you clearly knew her much better than I thought… So, Teddy’s not the only one who deserves a chance to say goodbye.” 

Malfoy’s cool, grey eyes froze as Harry’s found them, his normal mask of a calm, controlled look giving way to clear surprise at Harry’s words. After a moment he regained his composure, he didn’t break eye contact, but carefully arranged his features into a measured expression, and nodded in return. Moments ticked by, neither willing to back down by being the first to break their eye contact, to break the bridge it had just appeared they had managed to build.

Malfoy was the first to move. 

“If that’s all, then, I think I’ll go to bed.” Malfoy said, pushing himself up from the table and bidding Harry goodnight, leaving him sitting alone at the table, his tea going cold in his hand as he replayed the conversation in his mind. 

\--

The day of the funeral dawned and Harry awoke early. He allowed himself to languish beneath his covers, revelling in the few moments solitude the early morning provided. A slow flick of his wand and a quietly murmured charm pulled the heavy curtains opposite Harry’s bed apart and allowed the early morning light to bathe his bedroom. Beyond the glass panes Harry could already tell the sun was rising strongly and that the day would be bright and beautiful. He smiled to himself softly; it sounded cliché, he knew, but it was the kind of day Andromeda would have wanted.

With thoughts of the witch on his mind Harry sighed, pulling himself out of bed. He stretched long and tall, pushing his muscles to spring from the ache that clung to them. He wasn’t sure if the constant drumming ache in his bones which seemed to consume him these days was from the efforts of caring for a fit and healthy three year old or from the tension of having Malfoy living in his house.

Probably both, Harry mused, as he pushed on his glasses and headed to the door in search of a shower. When he stepped out into the corridor, the first thing he saw was a small figure, huddled by the side of his door.

“Teddy?” He asked softly, immediately crouching down to the young boys level.

“Uncle Harry.” His godson replied, looking up at Harry with a deep look of… what Harry could only describe as thought on his face. The expression unsettled Harry even further; what things could a child possibly have to think about to make him look so troubled?

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice still low and soft as he cast an arm around his back.

“Is Draco coming today?” He asked, with hope in his voice that immediately made Harry glad that he had asked Malfoy to attend the funeral, no matter what his personal thoughts about the wizard were.

“Yes, Teddy, he is.” Harry replied, gently stroking Teddy’s back with long, soothing strokes he knew would calm him.

“And you?” 

Despite himself, Harry smiled. However much he may be slowly becoming more accepting of Malfoy and Teddy’s relationship, he still liked to see how much Teddy relied on him too. “Of course I am.”

With those words Teddy’s troubled expression lifted and a small smile covered his lips as he nodded. “Will lots of people want to say goodbye to Grannie?” He asked, leaning into Harry’s side, toward the comfort he provided.

“I think so… your grannie was a very wonderful witch.” Harry replied honestly, shifting his position so Teddy could snuggle up against his side. Teddy was silent although Harry felt, rather than heard, a small nod of response as Teddy bumped his head against Harry’s ribs. They sat for a moment in a gentle silence, Harry’s arm never ceasing its slow, soothing strokes. 

“I’m hungry.” Teddy complained after a moment, his words muffled by his faces current position buried in Harry’s chest.

“Well I was just going to shower, then I’ll-“ Harry paused, frowning to himself. He knew Teddy loved him, needed him… Just as much as he knew from experience that a certain blonde wizard would more than likely already be downstairs, sipping a morning coffee. “Why don’t you go down and see if…” Another pause; to Harry, the wizard downstairs wasn’t anything but Malfoy. To Teddy he was so much more. But calling him anything other than Malfoy seemed… wrong. “Your cousins awake to make you some breakfast?” Harry settled on in the end, relief washing through him as Teddy scurried away after another brief nod. 

Harry watched Teddy disappear down the staircase then stood and slipped into the bathroom. He shivered in the cool bathroom as he stripped his pyjamas, sighing with relief as he dived under the warm spray of the shower. The hot water cascaded over his body, eased his aching muscles and awoke his troubled mind. He had no idea how long he stood under the spray; the water, as was usual in a wizarding household, had a permanent heating charm in place meaning showers never went cold. Eventually, and somewhat reluctantly as he thought of the day ahead, Harry pulled himself from the shower, choosing to dry completely in the warmth of the bathroom before wrapping himself in his bathrobe to pad back to his room. His dress robes were ready and waiting, neatly hung and pressed on the front of the wardrobe where he had hung them the night before. Once dressed, he tried in vain to flatten his hair with various charms he had long since abandoned; of course none worked, they never had. Sighing at his generally dishevelled appearance – all the smart dress robes appeared to do was make his hair look (if possible, which he doubted) even worse – Harry turned away from the mirror and left his bedroom in search of food. 

He crept quietly down stairs, hovering in the corridor outside the kitchen. It wasn’t that he was eavesdropping, of course not, he just… wondered. He liked to know how Teddy was with Malfoy. However, nothing but silence hit his ears. Instantly panicked Harry pushed open the kitchen door and dove inside;

Nothing. 

The kitchen was empty. There were no plates, pans or cups in sight. Everything was as neat, tidy and clean as it had been the night before. Harrys mind whirled, his Auror senses immediately gearing into overdrive. Where was Teddy? Malfoy? Where had he taken him? There was no evidence of breakfast, no evidence of anything… But where would they go? Harry was sure that Malfoy had sold his house in France. But what if his time in France had been nothing but a cover? What if he had told Harry tales of selling his home, but instead had spent his time over there preparing to bring Teddy over?

Harry felt his palms beginning to sweat and pulled his wand out of the pocket of his robes. First, he would check their rooms. Perhaps there would be a trace of magic, something Harry could track to find out when and where they had gone. This time his steps were far from creeping; he flew up the staircase, taking the steps two – if not three – at a time as he sprinted upwards, flinging open the door to Teddy’s room.

Empty.

The dress robes Harry had hung on his wardrobe were gone. Harry wasted no time looking through the rest of the room and turned on his heel, heading up another flight of stairs which would take him to the floor on which Malfoy’s bedroom was on. 

He flung open the door to Malfoy’s bedroom and stopped dead in his tracks.

There they were, both Teddy and Malfoy, looking at their reflections in the mirror, Teddy wearing the very robes that Harry had laid out.

“Potter?” Malfoy asked, whipping around as soon as Harry’s loud footsteps made his arrival clear. His eyes seemed to flicker over Harry’s generally erratic appearance – wand in hand, breathing heavily, a thin sheen of sweat now covering his forehead – and he raised a single, cool eyebrow. 

“I – er… I just...” Harry tumbled over his own words, shame instantly eating at him for his immediate impulse to jump to the negative. “You weren’t having breakfast. There was no breakfast. Teddy’s robes were gone. I worried. But you’re here.” Harry was aware his speech was coming out in short, badly formed sentences – but at least he was managing to string words together now. He willed his cheeks not to heat up and betray the guilt he was feeling and give away the conclusions he had leapt to.

“I am capable of washing up, you know, Potter.” Malfoy replied as he smoothed down the edges of a very fine pair of – was that silk? – robes. “Teddy said you were still in the shower when he wanted to get ready, so I brought him up here with me.”

That, of course, was a perfectly logical explanation. Dumbfounded by his own reckless attitude, his jump to the worst conclusion, his negative thoughts of Malfoy’s intentions; especially – Harry mentally added, the burn of his shame increasing – after the moment they shared in the kitchen the night before. 

The best he could manage was a nod, lowering his wand as he tucked them into his robes.

“Uncle Harry, Draco’s robes are the bestest.” Teddy said as he approached Harry, a thankfully blissfully unaware distraction from the tension in the room. “They feels pretty. We look pretty, but Draco feels pretty. Do you want to feel him Uncle Harry?”

A sudden, unwarranted, image of Malfoy in the corridor the previous night – half naked, dripping with water, pale and smooth – flashed into Harry’s mind. He pushed it away as soon as it came, but that was it. If there had been any hope that Harry’s cheeks had managed not to redden during his earlier embarrassment, that hope was gone now.

“Er, no thanks, Ted. I’m ok. You look great!” Harry replied, quickly and very overenthuasistically adding the final comment, hoping to distract Teddy from his desire to talk about how Malfoy felt. How he felt pretty, of all things. 

Teddy turned back to the mirror, smoothing out his robes in an action that perfectly mirrored the one Malfoy had done moments before. When he turned back to Harry, his eyes were wide and full of worry. “Do you think Grannie would have liked me?” He asked, his voice so quiet Harry barely heard it.

Emotion swelled up, forming in a lump in Harry’s throat. He tried to speak, but he couldn’t seem to find the ability to form words. Everything he wanted to say got stuck in the lump of emotion twisted around his throat. 

“Of course, Ted.” The voice that spoke was just as quiet as Teddy’s had been, and came from the other side of the room. Malfoy had crouched next to Teddy and placed a hand on his shoulder. “She would have thought you were the most handsome young wizard in the world!” he added dramatically, earning a slow but sure smile from the young boy. 

As Malfoy stood Harry caught his eye and gave him a nod of thanks, which the blonde returned. Once again Harry tried to avoid thinking about his thoughts in the kitchen not even half an hour ago.

“Shall we go?” Harry asked, taking Teddy’s hand and leading him from the room without another word. 

-x-

With Harry being the organiser of Andromeda’s funeral the three were, of course, the earliest. He’d chosen an outdoor location, near a lake by the house that Teddy and Andromeda had shared; the parallels with Dumbledore’s funeral were not lost on him; the outdoors, the nearby lake, the deep sense of loss. Harry supposed that as Dumbledore’s funeral was the first wizarding funeral he’d attended (which was a number that, after the war, rose more dramatically than Harry ever wanted to think about) it was fitting that the first wizarding funeral he organised bore some similarities. The sun shone just as brightly as it had when Harry awoke, yet a cool breeze from the nearby lake tumbled over them, keeping them cool under their robes. He looked around the area and saw the way the wards he’d ordered to be organised after the news of Andromeda’s funeral in The Prophet. Only those who had heard the exact time, date and location of the funeral from Harry would be able to apparate within the area – those who had read the leaked details in the newspaper would be able to come close, but not inside. He, Malfoy and Teddy had apparated directly into the wards and would apparate out of them too – there was no need for Teddy to be exposed to the press. Harry was pleased to notice the wards were only given away by their faint glitter in the sun; if he hadn’t been looking for them, he wouldn’t have known they were there. When he peered closely, he was able to see the large dome shape that stretched from the lake to where he stood, encasing the rows of white chairs pointing toward the water and – Harry noted, swallowing yet another lump in his throat – Andromeda’s casket. 

“Mr Potter?” A voice asked, interrupting Harry from his thoughts. He turned to see a small, kind looking witch who he had come to knew through Andromeda. As far as Harry knew, she had been one of Andromeda’s few close friends – but then again Harry thought, with a sly glance toward where Malfoy had now seated himself on the front row with Teddy, how much did he really know?

“Hello, Mrs Hobday.” Harry greeted, giving her what he hoped was a warm smile. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel warmly to the witch; she had been kind, funny and generous to both Andromeda and Teddy whenever he met her… It was rather that today, of all days, wasn’t really a day for the warmest of smiles.

“Do call me Violetta, dear.” She replied, smiling as she always did when she spoke to him. “I came early to see if you needed any help with Teddy. Where is he?” 

Harry smiled thankfully, her kindness managing to break temporarily through his sorrow. He spared another glance toward Malfoy and noticed how the witch’s eyes followed his direction.  
“He’s over there.” Harry replied, although he knew the words were pointless. Inside he was scanning Violetta’s face for any trace of recognition of who stood beside Teddy, if she knew of Andromeda’s growing links with her family and, if she did, what she thought of them? 

“Is that the Malfoy boy?” Violetta asked, her voice instantly sharpening and her kind smile shallowing out into a grim line. 

So that answered Harry’s first question; she did recognise Malfoy. Then again, anyone in the wizarding UK tended to recognise the Malfoy family – their pale faces and bright blonde hair were like a beacon of their heritage. He simply nodded, waiting for Violetta to offer more answers to his unspoken questions. 

“Well.” She said, sniffing slightly as if there were an unpleasant smell under her nose. “Andromeda did tell me she was… In contact with Narcissa, but I can’t say I agreed. After what they did to her, her own family! Where is she, then?”

“Er… She’s dead.” Harry replied after having a moment to register her words. So she did know that Andromeda had been talking to the Malfoy’s again… But Andromeda had obviously received a less than warm reaction to the news. Was that why she hadn’t told Harry? Had she worried his reaction – with him being the one leading the fight against the side her sister took – would be the same? Harry couldn’t deny it; it would have been. But, all the same, his heart ached. 

He wished she would have told him.

He wished she was still here. 

“Good riddance, I say.” Violetta answered tartly, her displeased gaze still focused intently on the back of Malfoy’s head. “So what’s he doing here? What are you letting him hang around Teddy for?”

“I er… I don’t exactly have a choice.” Harry admitted with a slight shrug of his shoulders. In that moment he realised just how little people – Ron and Hermione included, until a few nights earlier – knew about what had happened to Teddy since the death of his grandmother. “As he was the only remaining living relative of Teddy and Andromeda left no direction specifying her wishes for Teddy’s care he’s been named – along with me – a legal guardian of Teddy.”

Harry’s words had the effect on her expression Harry imagined would happen if she had bitten into an extremely sour lemon. Her lips pursed and her whole face seemed to wrinkle inward in distaste. 

“Just you watch out, Harry. Don’t you go letting him get too close. Dangerous family.” She walked away, shaking her head and Harry allowed a breath of relief to escape his lips. He had been struck by Violetta’s words; he knew, deep down, they were the things he’d been thinking himself since the day he met Malfoy in Cairn’s office. Merlin, he’d thought those thoughts this very morning as he’d torn through the house, certain in his fear that Malfoy had taken Teddy away.

But, he knew just as surely, that he had been wrong to think that way.

The sound of various pops of apparition filled the air as Harry watched Violetta take her seat – which was, Harry noticed, on the opposite side of the front row to Malfoy. Harry remained in place, greeting the various witches and wizards he’d invited and ignoring the furrowed brows, furtive glances and downright glares cast toward the front as each guest realised who was sitting with Teddy. 

“Harry!” Said a familiar voice, the owner of which immediately bound him in an almost bone splitting hug. Even if Harry hadn’t heard the words he would have known just from the arms around him who this next guest was.

“Hello Mrs Weasley” he replied as he returned the hug before stepping back to smile and nod in greeting to the rest of the Weasley family; Arthur, Bill, Fleur and Victorie, George, Ginny and Ron and Hermione. 

“How are you dear? Are you eating properly? Is Teddy eating properly? Where is he?” The tumbling fuss of questions from Molly’s lips gave no dip, no chance for Harry to respond as she held him at arms length, carefully scrutinising him and fussing with the collar of his robes. 

Steeling himself, Harry decided to answer the final question; it was, of course, the one that had been on everyone’s lips. “He’s over there.” Harry said, jerking his head to the front of the chairs in the direction he now knew seated Malfoy. “With Malfoy.”

The reactions were varied. Ron and Hermione looked sympathetic; they, of course, already knew. Bill and Fleur quite openly glared and, as Harry gazed once again over the scars on Bill’s cheek, he knew couldn’t blame them. Ginny and George frowned, although their hatred wasn’t as pronounced. Mrs Weasley tutted under her breath, shaking her head softly.

“Yes, yes, Ron and Hermione told us all about it.” She told him, pausing to frown in his direction. “We got Arthur to check up on him, of course, at the Ministry but… There’s nothing. Still, you know Harry, you’ll have to be careful.” 

“I know..” Harry replied, shrugging his shoulders toward the people he considered family. “I know. But there’s nothing I can do. He seems, well… He seems ok, I suppose. Teddy loves him.” Harry carefully looked over the expressions of the assembled Weasley’s as he spoke, aware that described Malfoy as ‘ok’ was positively a glowing compliment. “You all agreed with me, after the war, when I saved him. You all told me I was doing the right thing…” He knew his tone was pathetic now, almost pleading. He needed someone, anyone, to tell him he hadn’t made a mistake. 

“I don’t doubt your decision, Harry. But you need to remember who he is. Who his family was.” Mrs Weasley told him firmly. “We can’t sit here and pretend his aunt didn’t kill Teddy’s mother. That’s a conversation you’re going to have to have one day!”

Harry’s blood ran cold at the thought; he’d never once imagined the conversation in years to come when Teddy would want to know how his parents died. That had always been set up to be Andromeda’s job. Now, it would be Harry’s. Or Malfoys… And his mother’s murder would be….

Harry didn’t know it was possible for his blood to run any colder; although it did, when a throat cleared behind him. 

“I’m aware that such a conversation will need to take place. I’m sure I will pay for it, as I have paid for all my actions.” Malfoy’s voice was a shock; Harry didn’t know when he’d arrived, or how long he’d been listening. Just how much had he heard? “Andromeda found a way to forgive us and I can only hope that Teddy, when he is old enough, will do the same.” 

As Malfoy finished, the mouths of each and every Weasley were gaping open. Harry thought absent mindedly that the old Malfoy would probably have had some cutting comment about how it was disgusting that a Pureblood family were so poor they couldn’t afford a brain cell between them; yet the new Malfoy simply turned away and looked toward Harry. “A word, Potter?” He asked as he cocked his head in the direction of an empty patch of grass a few feet away.

Harry made no move to step away from his position beside the Weasleys. “You can tell me here.”

Malfoy gazed over at the Weasleys who had by now composed themselves and were looking over at him expectantly. The blonde turned back to Harry and nodded. “Naturally, there are people here who aren’t pleased to see a Malfoy.” He began, his chin raised and his expression set in a calm, cool look of confidence. Harry knew, however, from months of watching him in sixth year, the ways the mask could crack. His eyes seemed to cloud over, betraying the emotion within and his voice wobbled slightly as he spoke. “I think it would be for the best if I were to go back. Teddy will be fine with you.” 

Harry watched closely as Malfoy spoke, noting all the signs which made Harry sure that his upturned chin, his broad shoulders, his tall stance were all false bravado. The wizard before him was clearly – although, Harry supposed, only clearly to him – troubled. He was scared, worried, alone. Harry glanced behind him to where Teddy stood, dutifully standing a few paces back, no doubt where Malfoy had instructed him to wait. 

“No. You have as much right to be here as anyone else does. Teddy needs you too.” It was only as the words left Harry’s lips he realised them to be true, only as he spoke them that he truly accepted them. “Anyone that has a problem with that…” Harry paused, scanning the crowd before slowly eyeing each of the Weasleys – his eyes stopping on Bill and Fleur in particular, “will have to speak to me.”

Harry stood and waited, allowing his words to settle. It was only then he realised the consequences of what he had said. Had he really just offered an ultimatum to the people he thought of as family in opposition to someone who, just two weeks ago he hated and just this morning he thought had kidnapped his godson? Well, too late now, his Gryffindor courage told him.

“Of course, Harry.” Hermione spoke first, reaching out to take his hand and squeeze it. He smiled in thanks and returned the gesture, thankful that he always could rely on Hermione, no matter how far apart they drifted. But, the rest of the Weasleys? He still loved them, but since his split with Ginny… Their relationships hadn’t been the same. He didn’t visit as often and slowly but surely, they hadn’t asked as often. Harry watched as the group parted; Ron followed his wife’s lead and nodded in support of Harry. On the other side, however, Bill and Fleur turned away in unison to take their seats. Mrs Weasley seemed to dither in the middle of her brood, clearly uncomfortable.

“Well, Harry dear, you know we will always trust your judgement.” She told him and offered a smile, although it didn’t reach her eyes in the same way her first greeting had and the arms didn’t reach out to embrace him again. She took her husband’s hand and followed her eldest son to take some of the few remaining seats. With brief nods of their own, the rest of the Weasleys followed her. 

Harry watched them go, trying to ignore the way a knot twisted in his stomach. 

“Come on then, it’ll be about to start.” Harry said, turning back to Malfoy and briskly pacing toward Teddy, scooping him into his arms and carrying him back to the front of the crowd enveloped in a tight hug. Teddy, of course, was capable of walking. But the gesture wasn’t for Teddy, it was for Harry. He soothed himself in the soft scent which was his godson, the feel of his small yet solid body against his. 

Harry took a seat at the front of the crowd in silence, placing Teddy on the chair next to him where he had once been sat with Malfoy who had followed the pair and now sat beside Teddy. Harry tried to ignore the burning sensation on the back of his neck which he knew came from the watchful eyes of every assembled witch and wizard and stared resolutely forward as the ceremony began. 

The wizard who led the ceremony droned on about war and peace, suffering and freedom, love and forgiveness. Harry resisted the urge to snort at the understanding murmur that rippled the crowd as the word ‘forgiveness’ was spoken. 

“Now Mr Potter, god father to Edward Lupin who we know as Andromeda Tonks’ only remaining relative, will say a few words.” 

If Harry had had any intention of reading the words written on the parchment in the pocket of his robes that intention disappeared with the wizard’s introduction. As Harry stepped out to the front of the assembled guests he saw no need to cast a ‘snorus’ charm, each witch and wizard was sitting in captivated silence, staring straight toward Harry. 

“So far today we have heard words of war and peace, suffering and freedom and most importantly, love and forgiveness. It is true that Andromeda knew all of these, she was a brilliant witch and she will be dearly missed.” Harry took a breath, pausing as he scanned the eyes of the crowd. As his gaze settled on Malfoy, who was watching with him with a carefully calculated expression which guarded the words he’d heard that day, Harry knew what he had to say. “I find it troubling, however, that we are listening to these words, agreeing with these values that Andromeda held dear, yet not expressing them ourselves. Indeed, I was introduced as Teddy’s god father, which is true. What is not true, however, is that he is Andromeda’s only remaining relative. Sitting amongst us today is another, her nephew, Draco Malfoy.” Harry paused as a murmur rippled through the crowd and heads twisted toward Malfoy’s seat at the front as if none had been aware of him before. “Many of you here today are guilty of not extending Andromeda’s values. She offered love and forgiveness to her nephew, she accepted him in her life. She introduced him to her grandson, a boy who loves him deeply in return. If Andromeda were to have one legacy, it should be forgiveness.” 

Harry had no idea where his eloquent words came from; it was true, of course, that he’d had plenty of experience in delivering speeches after the war but these were usually pre-prepared by the Ministry and, when he began to refuse their words that seemed so distant from the reality of what had happened, by Hermione. Today Harry was coursing through his words with blazing, raw emotion. Each word he spoke was a revelation not only to the crowd, but to himself. His thoughts of Hermione led him to seek her out through the faces before him; when he did, she smiled, and he smiled in return.

“Rest in peace, Andromeda.” He said, touching her casket softly before he turned away and headed back toward his seat. As he walked, he heard the soft, surprised murmur of the crowd repeating his words.

Rest in peace, Andromeda.

As he returned to his seat he snuck a glance at Malfoy. His face was still a carefully arranged mask of calm but his eyes seemed slightly wet, glistening in the shimmering light of the sun. Surely he couldn’t be… Crying?

Harry had no more time to stare, however, as he took his seat once more. The wizard who had introduced him rose to his feet again, swiftly moving the ceremony on and bringing it to a close. As the final words were spoken, a murmur of movement travelled through the people behind them as they sprang up conversations and stood to leave. 

“I’m hungry. I’m tired.” Teddy complained beside Harry. He looked down, as if only just remembering his godson were there. Apart from the two emotions he’d expressed he looked unaffected by the gravity of the events that had taken place; he rubbed his eyes gently and drooped his head back against Malfoy’s arm. 

“Well, Ted, I’ve got some people I need to talk to. Why doesn’t Draco take you home and I’ll see you later?” Harry said, offering the young boy a smile and a gentle stroke of his hair. He didn’t even realise the way he’d called Malfoy by his first name until long after he’d finished speaking – it now seemed natural… when talking to Teddy at least. 

Teddy nodded, and buried himself further back into the crook of Malfoy’s arm. Malfoy stood, picking Teddy up with him and curling the young boy around his side. 

“The wards will let you in, I haven’t altered them since you returned from France.” Harry said as he stood himself.

“Thank you…” Malfoy said softly, taking a long, meaningful look at Harry as he did so. Harry shivered under the gaze; somehow, he knew the thanks was for much more than allowing the wards of his home to accept him.

“Your welcome,” Harry replied, hoping his tone conveyed that he had understood the thanks Malfoy had offered in his words. Now, of course, wasn’t the time to talk about it. 

Malfoy nodded and, with a faint pop, the pair was gone. 

Harry sighed, a long, drawn out sound, and turned toward the crowd in search of the Weasleys. 

\-------oooooo---------

Harry apparated directly into the sitting room of Number 12 and sank down into the nearest sofa, rubbing his eyes tiredly. It had been a long day to say the least. After saying goodbye to Teddy and Malfoy he had found the Weasley’s, talked with Hermione and Ron and – although he sensed the offer came with some reluctance – been invited to the Burrow for tea. He had spent the rest of the afternoon talking quietly with Arthur about life at the Ministry, with Ron about how things were going at the Auror office and Harry’s upcoming return to work, and with both his friends about their eagerly awaited arrival. He also spent the afternoon ignoring the way Mrs Weasley eyed him with a mixture of worry and sadness and the way both Bill and Fleur eyed him with firm distrust. 

Realising the house was very quiet; Harry pulled himself up off the sofa and worked at the buttons of his dress robes. He hated being so constrained, so formal, and was relieved when the buttons gave way and the robes fell to the sofa behind, leaving him in a simple white shirt and black trousers. He took the stairs quietly, heading toward Teddy’s room. When he reached it the door was slightly ajar and the light from the room spilled out, bathing a tiny section of the corridor in a soft, golden light. Harry hung back, listening. He was aware eavesdropping was becoming a habit of his - but it was his home, after all.

He listened as Malfoy told a story that sounded somehow familiar, yet Harry couldn’t place. It wasn’t in one of the books he had for Teddy, that much he knew. He crept closer as Malfoy’s voice spilled out into the corridor, taking the opportunity to peer around the door. The backs of both the rooms occupants were to him, both sitting on Teddy’s bed. There was no book in Malfoy’s hands, instead his hand gripped his wand which he flicked as he spoke, casting shadows of characters across the wall to match the tale he told. 

Figures of witches and wizards and elves danced across the wall and Teddy giggled in delight as Malfoy affected the voices of each character. Harry found himself listening, equally captivated.

“That’s the end, Ted, time for bed now.” Malfoy said as he dropped the dancing shadows from his wand, clearing the final image of an embraced witch and wizard beside a cheering elf. Another flick of his wand pulled back the covers of Teddy’s bed and the young boy obediently scrambled beneath them.

“Why don’t some of Uncle Harry’s friends like you?” Teddy asked sleepily as he cuddled up under the covers, clearly unaware of the impact of his question. Harry watched as Malfoy’s shoulders stiffened, his wand seeming to wobble slightly in his grasp; he also watched the way he quickly composed himself, pocketing the wand and reaching out to smooth the covers down around Teddy. Years of practise, Harry knew.

“I… I wasn’t always a good guy, Ted.” Malfoy began, his words carefully chosen yet gently delivered. “I made some bad choices. Your grannie could forgive me but some people can’t.”

Harry tried to see Teddy’s face as he digested this piece of news but it was hidden by Malfoy’s figure. 

“Uncle Harry forgives you.” Came Teddy’s reply; and even though Harry hadn’t said such words himself, he knew it was the truth. 

“I hope he does…” Malfoy whispered, so softly that Harry barely heard him. “But as long as I’ve got you, Ted, I’ll be ok. Goodnight.” He said, bending to kiss Teddy’s forehead.

“G’night…” Teddy mumbled sleepily in response and it was only when Harry was able to see his peaceful face that he realised Malfoy was moving toward the door and Harry was about to be caught in the act. He froze, knowing he had nowhere to go. He couldn’t run, that would be obvious and the noise of apparition would give him away too. He had no choice but to stand as if he had every right to be there, listening in.

Harry tried to remind himself he did; it was his house.

But that conversation had been far too personal for Harry to hear. 

As he had learnt to read Malfoy’s emotions in the split seconds before they were controlled, Harry saw the surprise as he opened the door to find him standing there.

“That was a lovely story.” Harry said, hoping to divert the attention from the conversation that followed it. 

“Thank you… My mother used to tell it to me, when I was young.” As Malfoy spoke of his mother a small, wistful smile crossed his lips, clearly visiting a fond memory. Harry’s own memories of Narcissa came to mind; not the tall, cold, woman he’d often seen waiting to greet Malfoy from the Hogwarts express, but the shaken, lost soul he’d seen in the forest as the battle hung on a pinpoint, pleading for news of her sons safety. That was the Narcissa that, since Malfoy’s sudden inclusion in his life, Harry preferred to remember. He had a feeling that if Andromeda had found it in her heart to forgive her sister, that it must be the Narcissa she wanted to see, too and that was good enough for Harry.

“A drink?” Harry asked, nodding toward the staircase. “Something stronger than tea?” He added, a necessary after thought for the day they had both experienced. Malfoy nodded his agreement to both comments and the pair made their way to the sitting room. Once there Harry approached an old, wooden cupboard and took out two crystal tumblers which were older than anything Harry had ever touched before and would no doubt have Walburga Black’s portrait screaming profanities if she could see him holding them.

“Firewhiskey?” He offered, eyeing the contents of the cabinet. Once again Malfoy only nodded and Harry poured two generous glasses, offering one to Malfoy before he took a seat, leaving the bottle on the table between them. 

The only sounds in the room were the gentle clink of glass against teeth, the audible gulps as liquid slicked throats and, of course, the gentle hum of magic which seemed to wrap around the old wizarding house.

“I suppose I should say thank you.” 

A small, sideway glance at Malfoy told Harry that this declaration, although perhaps somewhat limited in the elegance and gratitude of its words, had taken Malfoy a lot of courage. His pale, long fingers were wrapped tightly around the now empty glass Harry had handed him and his brow was furrowed ever so slightly, betraying just a little of the determined expression he clearly desired to hide.

Harry offered Malfoy the curtsey of looking away, allowing him the space to control his emotions, yet ended his generosity there. He recalled, with a burning feeling in his chest, suspiciously close to his heart, the way Malfoy had looked at him at the funeral, when he had said thank you behind the pretence of thanking him for allowing him through the wards. Harry had suspected then the thanks meant more. Now, he would do more than suspect. He wanted – needed – to know more. He needed to hear the words he knew – or, at least, very strongly believed – hid behind the blonde’s announcement. “About?” He asked, taking great care to keep his voice soft and level; clearly expecting an answer, but not appearing threatening.

“Today,” Malfoy continued almost instantly, taking Harry a little by surprise. He’d expected a pause, a chance for Malfoy to gather his thoughts. “You didn’t need to do what you did. I’m aware of how many… Well, I’m aware the Malfoy name isn’t what it once was.” As Malfoy paused there, Harry allowed himself a glance at the wizard he sat beside. A few years ago he would have thought that Malfoy would have looked disgusted by this, affronted by having his name and reputation in the dirt. Now he looked… Harry couldn’t quite place it, but the steel in Malfoy’s eyes unnerved him. He looked away as quickly as he had looked. 

Then he suddenly became aware that Malfoy would be waiting for an answer. He failed uselessly to conjure any words, thrown off by the look he’d caught in those grey eyes. He made the motion of drinking from his glass, stretching out the time he had to reply.

“It needed to be said.” Harry responded after the liquid had ceased burning his throat, as if its presence there had released the grasp his nerves had around his vocal cords. As the room fell silent Harry dared to lift his gaze again, this time finding Malfoy staring straight back at him. Their gaze held and unspoken words flitted between them; understanding, unity, peace. 

Malfoy was the first to look away.

Yet, he was the first to speak again.

“Speaking of… words that need to be said,” he began, appearing very interested in the rim of his whisky glass. “As you have seen today, the Malfoy name holds nothing but ill-will. I do not want Teddy to think of me alongside such a name…”

He trailed off, clearly considering how to pose his question. When he had looked away, Harry hadn’t. The side profile he’d been granted showed the left side of Malfoy’s face, where Harry could see a vein pulsing against the pale skin of his forehead before it disappeared under his even paler hair. As Harry watched, he decided to save him the pain.

“You want me to call you Draco.” He said. It wasn’t a question, nor was it a guess. It was a statement.

“Yes, Potter, I would prefer it.” Malfoy nodded. “For Teddy.”

The pause between Malfoy’s – or, should that be, Draco’s – statement and his last told Harry that Teddy wasn’t the only person the change of name was for. Harry nodded his agreement, allowing an edge of merriment to skim his gaze, glittering in his eyes as he latched onto the irony in Draco’s words.

“Only if you call me Harry,” he proposed in response, trying not to give away the smirk he held as he added “For Teddy, of course.”

 

-x-

Harry had been surprised how easy it had been to begin calling Draco by his given name. Somehow, it felt right. 

What hadn’t been so easy, however, was becoming used to Draco using his given name in return. 

Harry had returned to work, amongst the constraints and formalities of the Ministry, finding himself answering to nothing but “Auror Potter.” Of course, he couldn’t complain; it was his dream job and the title that came with it was much preferable to those The Prophet had chosen in its time. Even Ron, his oldest friend, called him “Auror Potter” in the line of duty as he called him Auror Weasley in return. He rarely saw him outside of work. Soon, he knew, Ron would be leaving the Auror’s and rarely outside work would become rarely, if at all. He only heard from Hermione through the owls she occasionally remembered to send around her and Ron’s frantic baby preparations.

Of course, the name “Harry” written at the foot of parchment, however elegantly scrolled, was not the same as hearing it slide like silk from Draco’s lips.

He remembered the first time. 

Harry had arrived home from work; his first day back as an Auror. It had been two days since their agreement and, although they had refrained from calling each other ‘Malfoy’ and ‘Potter’, they hadn’t chosen to use their given names in return. He had stepped through the Floo, beyond exhausted, mentally drained and physically spent. He had forgotten the strains of the demands the job made, the toll it took. As Teddy had greeted him at the fireplace he had sunk into a chair and allowed him to clamber on his lap, gently stroking his hair as he lay contently against him. He had understood, in that moment, why Ron had made his choice to leave. He had been so distracted in his thoughts he hadn’t heard Draco creep into the room, hadn’t heard the voice that softly announced;

“I made dinner.” 

Harry had looked up, startled by both the words and the way Teddy sprung from his lap in delight, racing toward the kitchen. Harry had followed to find a delicious meal waiting on the kitchen table and he had lapped it down with a hunger that had been masked by his fatigue. Once his plate was clear, he looked up to catch Draco’s gaze.

“Thank you.” He had said.

“No problem, Harry.” Draco had replied.

Harry had been taken by surprise by the way the breath had caught in his throat, the way his heart beat seemed to falter, if only for a minute. He had been taken surprise by the way his name sounded on Draco’s lips, like Harry never wanted to hear it that way from anyone else.

Then he had firmly pushed that thought to the back of his mind, burying it along with the memory he kept locked away of the wet, pale, naked skin he’d caught a glimpse of in the corridor.

They had continued this way for weeks. Harry working, Draco cooking and both of them caring for Teddy. 

Then arrived the gold gilt invitation that came every year. Harry recognised the formal ministry owl and the elaborate decoration of its mail before it had even made its way through the kitchen window. It sat proudly on the wooden table and allowed Teddy to pet its feathers as Harry untied the parchment from its leg, already aware of the words inside. They had been the same for the last two years, after all. Harry unrolled the parchment and withdrew his wand, accio-ing a quill and ink and immediately penning his response. He knew, from the previous years’ experience, that the owls sent by the ministry would not leave without a response. 

On the first anniversary of the war, he’d had seven owls in his house before he had given in.

The second year, he’d only reached two. 

This year, the third year, he knew attempts to resist were pointless.

He tied his response back to the owls leg, gave Teddy a crumb of toast to feed the bird then watched him fly from the window. Teddy went back to his breakfast, chattering excitedly about how beautiful the owl had been, and when was he allowed an owl too? Draco, however, gazed silently across at Harry, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow.

“The ministry.” He replied flatly. “I’ve learnt from experience those owls don’t leave until you reply.”

He knew, however, that his words didn’t answer the full question behind Draco’s raised brow. He sighed as he ran a hand through his messy hair. “On Friday it’s the third anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. I’ll be expected to attend a ceremony.”

Draco’s brow lowered and he nodded, a small, almost completely invisible gesture, before he appeared extremely interested in his toast. Harry thought back to Andromeda’s funeral, to the reasons Draco had given when he asked Harry to call him by his given name. He thought of how, with the funeral as an exception, Draco had not left Number 12 since he arrived. 

“You should come.”

Draco’s head snapped up in surprise. His grey eyes flashed with alarm for the briefest of moments before the regained their cool composure. “Somehow, I doubt I’ll receive an invitation.” 

“You don’t need one. I always get “Mr Potter and guest”. I never have anyone to invite.” He made sure his gaze bore into Draco’s, giving him no reason to look away. “I do now.”

He watched Draco’s reaction; the way he swallowed the lump which Harry knew must have risen in his throat, the way his emotions – fear, almost as if he was corned, trapped – flashed through his eyes. He shook his head, once again being the one to break their gaze. 

“Don’t be an idiot.” He muttered, pushing back his chair and rising from the table. Harry chanced a glance toward Teddy; he, thankfully, was completely immersed in feeding his stuffed pet dragon the crumbs from his plate. His glance at Teddy almost cost him Draco’s presence. 

An instant reflex – in a lighter mood, Harry would have been glad his seekers instinct was still there – allowed Harry to reach out and grab Draco’s wrist as he stalked past. He felt an undeniable spark as skin touched skin and fought not to drop his grasp in surprise. Instead, he stood, steeling his gaze, hard and determined, toward Draco. 

“I’m not an idiot. The wizarding world agreed to pardon you. They should honour that agreement.” He hardly recognised the voice which escaped him; a low growl, vibrating deep within his chest. 

“They did. I have the parchment which pardons me. I look at it every day. On paper, they have forgiven. But forgiving doesn’t mean forgetting.” Draco’s voice was equally low, yet it wasn’t a growl. It was a hushed, almost shamed whisper. 

“I’ve forgiven. But you’re right, I’ve not forgotten. I’ll never forget, because that would be an injustice to those who died.” Harry continued with a fierce determination, boring his dark green eyes into Draco’s, refusing to back down. “But those who are gone are gone. We cannot bring them back. It’s time to look forward. Please, Draco.” He whispered the blonde’s name, the syllables caressing his tongue. He watched the way his tone made Draco’s eyelids flutter before his gaze returned. 

“With a speech like that… I almost believe you.” He breathed, tugging his wrist from Harry’s now limp grasp and disappearing soundlessly, leaving Harry to gape at the empty space he left behind. 

\------

The days following their confrontation were tense. Their routine still continued; Harry worked, Draco cooked and they both cared for Teddy. Yet no more words were exchanged, no more glances were held. It was Thursday night and the three sat in the kitchen, plates empty, after another meal from Draco’s hand. Harry had wondered to himself how he even knew to cook; he had always envisioned him waited on hand and foot by a legion of house elves. Before, he hadn’t thought to ask and now, the mood between them wasn’t right. 

“Take your plate to the sink please Teddy.” Harry said to his godson, standing to clear his own. Of course the plates could be sent over with a simple flick of his wand and, with another, the sink could be charmed to soap and scrub each one sparkling clean. Harry, however, found the muggle way of washing up – perhaps, because of the hours spent doing the task in his youth – relaxing. He also wanted to teach his godson the values of muggle ways of life; yes, magic was powerful, but he knew in this new world it was more important than ever to teach Teddy that it wasn’t everything.

He knew, however, all too well, that this was one chore Teddy particularly disliked.

He watched the usual huff escape his lips, then the hand reach out to take the plate. 

Pop!

With a faint noise, the plate disappeared. Teddy’s eyes were wide as saucers, staring at the empty table before him.

“Did you?” Harry gasped, looking at Draco as he spoke. The blonde shook his head, although Harry didn’t need his answer, the look of utter astonishment on his face was enough.

“Teddy?” Harry gasped, returning his gaze to his godson who was still frozen in surprise. His own experience of the magic he’d performed before Hogwarts was limited and had always been explained away by his Aunt and Uncle. He didn’t know what to do.

Thankfully, Draco reacted.

“Teddy… What were you thinking?” He asked softly, reaching across to take the hand which still hovered in mid-air to grasp the now absent plate.

“I was just thinking how I hate taking my plate, especially when it’s all dirty, and how I just wish Uncle Harry would use magic to put it in the sink.” Teddy breathed, his eyes still not leaving the wooden table top.

Harry instantly flickered his eyes to the sink. There, atop of pile of dirty pots and pans waiting to be washed was Teddy’s plate.

“It’s there!” He exclaimed, a grin breaking out across his face. Of course, it was basic magic, but it was magic. Teddy’s first display of magic. 

“I put it there?” Teddy asked in a whisper, his eyes still wide with disbelief.

“Yes, Teddy.” Draco smiled, his hand now holding Teddy’s comfortingly. “You put it there. You did magic!” 

“I did magic?” Teddy repeated questioningly, his voice now rising with excitement. “I did real magic?” He repeated, leaping up from his seat and racing to the sink to see it with his own eyes. 

“Yes!” Harry exclaimed, tears of happiness brimming his eyes. At first, he felt slightly silly – then he caught Draco’s gaze and saw them there too. “Well done!” 

Teddy turned back from the sink to where Harry and Draco now both stood and threw himself around their legs, hugging tightly. They both patted Teddy’s soft hair and their fingers brushed. Harry glanced over at Draco and gave him a smile which he returned. 

Once Teddy let go of their legs he gave a long, drawn out yawn. “I’m tired.” He said softly as he rubbed his eyes.

Alarm whipped across Harry’s features. Seconds ago Teddy had been jumping around with excitement at his first display of magic and now he was yawning with obvious fatigue. Had the magic harmed him? Was he too young? Too weak? The questions whirled in Harry’s mind, panic flooding him. He noted, however, that Draco simply chuckled, leaning down to lift Teddy into his arms.

“I’m not surprised, that was big magic for a little man. You’ll sleep well tonight.” He murmured, tucking his arms around the boy’s small frame. His calm demeanour relaxed Harry and he instantly felt his shoulders loosen. Draco had been brought up around magic, born into a wizarding family. He knew much more of young, raw magic than Harry would ever know. 

Teddy waved sleepily at Harry as he was carried past and, although he waved in return, he followed. He trusted Draco, he knew that now, but he had to see with his own eyes that Teddy was ok. He followed him up the stairs to Teddy’s room, hanging back in the doorway as he slid the boy beneath his bedcovers. Although his intention had been to watch Teddy, Harry could help but notice the way the hard lines of Draco’s back rippled under his white shirt – Harry had always thought it strange how Draco dressed so formally at home, a pure-blood thing, he had assumed – and the way it rode up ever so slightly as he leant over to tuck Teddy in, exposing a patch of bare skin above the line of Draco’s belt. Harry tried once again to push the thoughts away but found himself unable. They were simply too strong and, if he were honest with himself, happening too often. 

He knew he found his gaze lingered on Draco a little too long when he thought he wasn’t looking. 

He knew he stared just a little too long when the angular features of his face softened with a smile for Teddy.

He knew he watched just a little too intently as his body moved with grace around the kitchen preparing whatever meal he was dishing up that evening.

He knew he- well, there was no other word – ogled blatantly whenever he caught Draco half-naked as he moved from the shower to his bedroom. 

He had long since stopped trying to deny the memories of his body when they visited him at night. 

With determination he swallowed the stirrings that struck him; allowing himself to think was one thing. Acting was another. This wasn’t some man Harry could experiment with, like the others before. It wasn’t someone he could take on a few dates and have a nice time with. This was a man who was living in his house. This was a man who would forever be attached to his life through Teddy. This was Draco Malfoy.

And, very suddenly, Draco Malfoy was the man standing face to face with Harry as he attempted to step outside Teddy’s door.

“Oh – er – sorry.” Harry instantly felt his cheeks heat with a flush; he was very aware that this was not the first time he’d been caught prying outside Teddy’s room when Draco was inside. He was also very aware of the thoughts he’d been allowing himself to indulge in whilst prying. 

Before Harry could muster his reasons for standing there Draco had given a soft shake of his head and then gestured toward the staircase. “A drink?” He asked, before adding, just as Harry had done on the night of Andromeda’s funeral “something stronger than tea?” Harry merely nodded in response, just as Draco had that night, and followed him down the stairs. He found himself wondering for a moment at the strangeness of the situation, of being offered a drink by a guest in his own home. Then again, Harry reasoned, Draco had been here much longer than any normal guest would and, well, was it his home now, too? It certainly was no longer just for Harry. It had become Teddy’s home from the moment Harry and Draco had brought him back from St Mungo’s . Was it slowly, somehow, becoming Draco’s home too?

These thoughts carried Harry to the comfort of the sofa and the cool, hard press of a glass against his hand. 

“Don’t worry.” Draco began with a faint smile, reading the deep look of thought on Harry’s face as concern for Teddy. “He’ll be fine. The first big burst of magic can tire a child, especially as young as Teddy.”

“I suppose, well.. What with him being a metamorphmagi and all, I just assumed he’d have magic anyway.” Harry explained with a shrug of his shoulders as Draco shook his head in response.

“It would be expected, yes, but at this point Teddy has no way to control his metamorphmagi… “ He explained “Children can still be born squibs and take on magical traits of their families, metamorphmagi, veela, werewolf…” 

As Draco’s voice trailed off with the last suggestion, Harry felt a slight shiver run down his spine. Of course, that had been Lupin’s worry in bringing Teddy into the world but thankfully he was clear of any indications he’d inherited his father’s… furry little problem. Harry smiled to himself as he thought of the way Lupin and Sirius had so often joked with the reference, glad he could now think of both of them with happiness rather than grief. 

“I just didn’t know what to expect, I suppose. It makes sense that he would be tired, but…” 

“Did the same not happen to you when you realised your raw magic?” Draco asked, raising a brow toward Harry. 

Instantly Harry dropped his gaze, becoming very interested in the glass he was holding. To think back to his first experiences of magic meant to think back to the Durselys; to a life where his… outbursts were not met with the joy or excitement that Teddy’s had been, but with hushed stories, cover ups and accusations that he were abnormal. 

“I didn’t really know magic existed.” Harry explained, somewhat uncomfortably. If someone were to have told him just a few months ago that he would be sitting with his former school rival on first name terms, discussing the deepest elements of his past he would have personally escorted them to a bed in St Mungo’s. Now, although he felt a little uneasy, he knew he could trust Draco to listen without scorn. “My aunt and uncle would always make some excuse about the things I did and tell me how abnormal I was before sending me back to my cupboard.” 

Draco’s lip curled in an expression Harry found difficult to read at first; it wasn’t disgust, or superiority it was… was it anger? Yes. Anger. At the way Harry had been treated by his muggle family? Why would that be his reaction? 

Feeling the more uncomfortable with the questions that Draco’s expression raised than with the conversation itself Harry pressed forward, changing the flow of conversation. “But now I look back, I can spot times where it must have been magic. Real magic. On my cousin’s birthday we went to the zoo… I spoke to a snake and accidently released it. Ended up locking my cousin back in the cage.” Harry’s eyes twinkled with mirth at the memory and –

“Did you just snort?” Harry asked, completely taken by surprise at the sound which had escaped his companion who was, quite clearly, very amused by the tale. 

“It’s not every day you find out the saviour of the wizarding world sets snakes loose amongst a whole bunch of muggles.” He said, still smirking with amusement. The smirk softened into a smile as the blonde called up his own memory “I was around six, I think, the first time I displayed magical ability which couldn’t be explained away. Father had instructed the house elves to cut my hair but I wanted to grow it like his. I was so upset, not only did my magic manage to cut most of his hair off it also dyed it bright green. I remembered I was terrified for him to look in a mirror, but he just laughed and bought be a practise wand. I think he’d been worrying his only heir would turn out to be a squib.”

Harry took in Draco’s words carefully, both the light and the dark, trying to piece together Draco’s childhood. Surprise, of course, that Lucius would respond so light heartedly to his sons magic harming his appearance in such a way. Then a prickle of sadness; what had Draco’s life been like that he’d feared his father’s reaction to his first display of magic? How had he felt before, clearly feeling the pressure that his father was convinced he had a squib for an heir? 

Neither of their childhoods had been perfect.

All that did was convince Harry that, between them, they would make sure that Teddy’s was.

Silence passed between them for moments, each lost in memories of their childhoods or – perhaps more likely, certainly on Harry’s part – imagining the childhood the other had experienced. 

“I know that you’re right.” Draco murmured, his quiet voice breaking the silence. Harry raised his head and cast a questioning glance over toward him; Draco’s head, however, was down as he stared into the flames flickering in the marble fireplace. Harry waited, choosing not to replace his lost glance with words, giving Draco the time to speak for himself. “I know that it’s time to look forward. When Teddy talks about the first time he performed magic I want him to be able to say I was there, to talk about me with pride.” Draco’s voice was little more than a whisper yet it was resolute, firm, determined. It let anyone who was listening know that Draco was a man who meant, with unyielding certainty, every word he said. 

“He will, he loves you.” Harry said, dropping his voice to match Draco’s. Soft, yes and quiet – yet with the assurance and determination the words needed. He didn’t stop to think about how, mere months ago, he would have revelled in the doubt Draco was experiencing yet he now wasted no time in offering the support and comfort he needed. 

“That’s not enough.” As Draco replied, he lifted his gaze. He sought out Harry’s eyes and the expression Harry saw was strange; his grey eyes were tinged with sadness yet a smile tugged across his lips. “Love is an emotion. So are disgust, and revulsion and hatred. Perceptions can change. I don’t want others to be able to change the way Teddy thinks about me because I did nothing to change their opinions.”

The flames continued to flicker as Draco grew silent, their crackles sounding through the room as the bright, hot light began to dim. 

“Does your invitation still stand?”

This time it was Harry’s turn to pull his eyes from the flames. For a moment he said nothing, taken aback by Draco’s change of heart. “Of course.” He replied in the same heartbeat in which he realised he’d left Draco waiting far too long. 

“Thank you.” Draco said, at first addressing the flames which were slowly dying out before he turned back to Harry. His gaze was as hard as steel, determined and strong, even if his voice cracked as he spoke, betraying the nerves behind his words. “For everything. For Teddy, for helping me face up to who I need to be. For believing in me.” 

He rose without a word more, giving Harry no chance to respond. He swept forward with a grace and a determination which told Harry that Draco didn’t want his words, just his ears. Harry was happy to afford him that request. Draco paused, only for a moment as he passed Harry’s chair, brushing a hand across his shoulder. Harry allowed himself the response of lifting his hand to meet Draco’s, gently brushing their fingers together before Draco withdrew and left the room. 

As Harry sat he thought about their conversation and the events of that day. He thought about Teddy’s excitement at his real magic, and Harry’s admittance of his first real magic of his own. He thought about Draco, the braveness in his words, the courage he had displayed in facing his vulnerabilities. His shoulder tingled where Draco’s hand had been, as if its presence was still a ghost holding him there. 

His lips curved, softly and slowly into a smile.

That, as far as Harry was concerned, was real magic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok - I replied to a few comments saying that this would be the final chapter... I'm so sorry, but I'm keeping you in suspense a little longer. I just can't find a way to make this work as a whole chapter, so this is the second to last, then there will be one more chapter. Enjoy! :)

Harry sat at the kitchen table, casting agitated glances at the clock every few seconds, as he waited for Draco to come downstairs. The blonde had not gone back on his word from the emotional exchange a few nights before and, when Harry had approached the subject last night, had remained in agreement that he would attend the anniversary ceremony as Harry’s ‘guest’.

Harry had been unable to sleep that night as his head spun with what the implications of ‘guest’ meant. To most, of course, it would mean a romantically involved guest. Harry was sure, that after not inviting a guest for the previous two years (as Ron and Hermione, of course, always received their own invitations) that the Ministry and press alike were waiting for Harry to invite a partner to the event. As Harry had mulled the thought over in bed he had been unable to deny the shiver that claimed his spine, the tingles he felt right from the ends of his fingers to the tips of his toes, as he thought about Draco as a partner in the sense that the invitation assumed. He had been unable to hold back the giddy smile, the tell-tale flip of his stomach as if someone had cast a hex to turn his inner organs to mush. Then he had remembered the day of Andromeda’s funeral, the looks and the sneers, the tuts and the muttered comments, that Draco had received. Then Harry decided that, more than likely, no one would think of Draco as Harry’s partner in any sense of the word; they would probably be too busy sneering at his presence, asking what he did to deserve to be there. Those final thoughts had sent Harry into a restless, tormented sleep. 

A small but undeniably sharp cough – rather obviously staged – startled Harry from his reflections of the previous night. Draco stood in the doorway to the kitchen dressed in a pair of deep green robes, the darkest, finest emerald velvet Harry had ever seen, trimmed with silver hems. As Harry looked up to meet Draco’s eyes he saw that, although the blonde had made a careful attempt to guard his features, the emotion in his eyes cracked through. He looked… Unsure. Worried. Hopeful? Was he waiting for Harry’s approval? A few more seconds of silence told Harry that he was.

“You look great.” Harry told him without having to feign a single word. He fought, however, to keep a blush contained beneath the surface of his cheeks, unwilling to show Draco the reaction his body gave to giving him a compliment. Eagerly he searched for a way to lighten the conversation and, in delight, latched onto the colouring in his companions robes. “Very Slytherin.”

Draco looked startled for a moment, looking down at the robes he wore as if considering them for the first time. “They reminded me of your eyes, actually.” Draco murmured, so quietly Harry hardly heard him. He did, however, and the complement caught him off guard. So Draco thought about Harry’s eyes, did he? “I better go and change them, then.” 

Harry snapped from his thoughts of what Draco thinking of his eyes may or may not mean when he spoke again. “What? Why?” Harry blurted, unwilling to let Draco change and the compliment given within his choice of attire be wiped away. 

“It doesn’t seem very proper, does it, wearing Slytherin colours on a day like today?” Draco asked, his tone carefully controlled. Too controlled. Harry had come to know that whilst Draco could control his voice and expression most of the time it was sometimes this control that gave him away. Often he looked too neutral, too devoid of emotion and all Harry had to do was piece together the feelings he was hiding. 

“Not at all.” Harry assured him, standing now to sweep the room and gently reaching a hand to rest on Draco’s shoulder. His mind tried to ignore – although a flutter of butterflies in his stomach didn’t – the way Draco’s eyes instantly flickered down to the hand and then, in return, caused the faintest of pink tints to douse his pale cheeks. “Severus Snape was a Slytherin and he died a hero in the final battle.” Draco’s eyes had returned to him now, but he still looked unsure. Determined to comfort his unease, Harry pressed on. He chose to spill a secret, something he had told only to his closest friends, that if he had known he would be sharing with Draco Malfoy a mere six months ago, he would have thought himself certifiably crazy. “The Sorting Hat wanted to put me into Slytherin, actually. It said I’d do achieve great things.” 

Draco’s eyes flickered with disbelief for a moment as if seeing Harry in a new light. Then, after a moment, he smirked softly and his usual self-assurance swept back across his features. “I can just imagine that. The Prophet would have had a field day.” 

With that Draco crossed the room to pour himself a mug of coffee, calling over his shoulder. “Has Teddy already gone?” 

Harry smiled to himself, glad that the sharing of his secret had managed to calm Draco in the way that it had. “Yes, Molly came through the Floo for him not long ago. She’s glad to have the excuse, I think.” Harry’s latter sentence was more of an open musing, a thought aloud to himself rather than directed to Draco. He knew, of course, that Molly Weasley had been affected more deeply than many by the war. One son lost forever, one without an ear and one scarred for life, who would always like his stakes just a little rarer. Harry knew that the past two ceremony’s had been hard on her and she had been more than happy to take up Harry’s request to care for Teddy today.

“Shall we go?” Harry asked as he looked up, already back to his agitated glances at the large kitchen clock. As Harry offered his arm to Draco for the side along apparition, he allowed himself to believe, just for the moment, that his arm really belonged there.

-o-

The day, overall, had been a success. Of course most had kept their distance from Draco, yet after Harry’s speech at Andromeda’s funeral there were no withering glares, no muttered insults, and no challenges to Draco’s presence. He stayed firmly by Harry’s side throughout the day and Harry had found himself all too comfortable with the constant company by his side. He did notice several furtive, questioning glances Hermione directed his way but chose to ignore them and, after a while, she decided to stop sending them. 

After the crowds died and the ceremony ended Harry offered his arm to Draco once again. He knew, technically, that Draco could apparate himself. He knew Harry’s house well and, of course, Harry had altered the wards to permit him. He was thankful when Draco didn’t question his offer and took his arm without comment, allowing Harry to guide them away and once again bask in the warmth of Draco’s body against his, however briefly.

As they arrived home he strode to the fireplace, relucatant to let go of Draco but eager to hold Teddy once again. He grabbed a handful of Floo powder for his journey to The Burrow and was about to head to the flames when a voice drew him back. “Do you want me to make some drinks for when you’re back?” Draco asked and Harry turned to nod in reply. 

“Something stronger than tea?” The blonde responded and Harry found himself smiling at their now somewhat familiar exchange. He nodded, allowing his smile to linger on Draco for a little longer than necessary, before casting his powder down and disappearing into the flames.

As he strode out of the Weasley’s fireplace he found himself in an almost completely deserted kitchen. Deserted, that was, apart from Hermione, sitting at the large kitchen table with a large mug of tea which seemed to rest somewhat comically on her now enormous bump. 

“Is Molly around?” He asked, casting his eye around the kitchen as if he could will her into existence.

“No, she’s just gone upstairs with Teddy. He fell asleep by the fire a few minutes ago, I think she’s putting him to bed.” Hermione informed him after gently blowing the hot liquid against the rim of her mug. “I’m sure she’ll firecall you when he wakes up.”

“Thanks. Tell her I dropped by?” Harry asked, turning back to the fireplace once more.

“I will, if you tell me something.” Hermione said and when Harry turned to her he saw the same questioning glance he’d seen cast toward him several times that day. It had now become the look Hermione got when reading a particularly difficult textbook or trying to find a loophole in a particularly old wizarding law which would help the house elves she still fought passionately for; a look that told anyone within a five mile radius that she had a question and she would, whatever it took, find the answer to it. 

“Sure, what?” Harry replied with his best attempt at nonchalance, keeping his voice light and breezy as if he hadn’t already work out what Hermione was going to ask.

“You and Malfoy looked pretty…. Close today.” She ventured after a moment of consideration. Harry groaned inwardly although he trained his face to remain neutral and unaffected by Hermione’s comment. 

“Draco and I are friends now, yes.” He replied simply; it wasn’t a lie, in fact, it was the complete truth. They were friends now. It just didn’t betray the potential… Added benefits of that friendship Harry had found himself wondering about recently. 

Hermione’s eyebrow raised almost coolly as Draco’s first name slipped so easily from Harry’s lips. “Draco, then.” She amended with a slight nod, perhaps rather to draw attention to the fact that Harry had changed how he referred to the blonde rather than as a correction of her own words. Harry gave her nothing more than a nod in return, hoping the conversation would be left there.

Of course, that hope wouldn’t come true with Hermione. 

“It looked like a bit more than friends to me.” She said; her voice was still low, her words still purposely chosen yet they were no longer timid or cautious. They were spoken with authority… almost accusation. 

Harry found himself unable to shrink back from Hermione’s words. He knew, especially now that his friends had begun to catch on (for now Hermione suspected, even if Ron had been oblivious it wouldn’t be long until he was aware now), that he had no choice in holding back from how he had begun to feel. He did, however, have a choice in who knew about it. He did have a choice in who he told. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t tell Hermione, or Ron… Or, indeed, any of the Weasley’s. They would have to accept his decisions. Of course he would tell them all; it was just, well, he rather felt someone else deserved to know first. 

“Well if that’s how it looks I’d better get back and sort that out, hadn’t I?” Harry said as he moved toward the fireplace casting Hermione a simple smile. His heart beat out of sync, his palms already feeling a little sweaty. Of course his words hadn’t told Hermione anything in the way of a conformation or a denial but he knew that his tone of voice, the smile on his face, the way he was in a hurry to return home to Draco… He knew that spoke for itself. 

Harry couldn’t hold back his relief when Hermione broke into a smile in return. “You better had.” She agreed with an encouraging nod. “And Harry?”

“Yes?” 

“You deserve to be happy.” She said, eyeing him kindly as she smiled and, after a moment’s thought, added “both of you.” 

Harry said nothing and allowed the bright, unstoppable smile from her simple sentiment give all the thanks he needed. He waved a brief goodbye before he gathered up a handful of Floo powder, threw into the hot, dancing flames and called “12 Grimmauld Place!”

As he arrived in the sitting room of number 12 he found that Draco was already awaiting his return, sitting in what Harry now referred to as the blondes favourite chair; a high backed, almost regal looking emerald, softly padded silk chair. He had poured to generous helpings of Firewhiskey and, if the difference between the glass beside his chair and the one beside Harry’s was anything to go by, had already made a start on his own.

“No Teddy?” He asked, raising a questioning brow as Harry stepped back through the flames alone.

“Hermione said he’d just been put to bed. He must still be getting tired from all the raw magic he’s showing.” Harry sank down into his chair as he spoke, pulling the glass of amber liquid toward him. He’d long since stopped worrying about Teddy’s fatigue after displaying raw magic as both Draco and Molly had assured him it was entirely normal and that, once his magic had settled, the frequent random burst of magic would die down. “Molly will firecall when he wakes.”

“Good.. There was something I wanted to talk to you about.” Draco murmured. His voice was quiet, almost apprehensive. He avoided Harry’s gaze and darted a tongue out across his mouth, tracing the thin pink skin of the lines of his lips.

Was he nervous? Harry asked himself internally. Why? Could he possibly want to talk to Harry about the same thing as Harry himself needed to say? 

“I do too.” He replied, gazing over at Draco and willing him to make eye contact. To give him a sign, a clue, anything to let him know what he was thinking. Draco’s gaze flickered up as Harry willed it to, but not with the expression he desired. Harry had longed to see a similar reflection of his own feelings, a wonder, a happiness, a hope that Draco was experiencing feelings Harry may reciprocate. Instead the blondes grey eyes bore nothing but confusion and a slight… was that fear? Or, worse, mistrust? That Harry had not seen in months. Confidence knocked, his own speech now beginning to fade away, Harry urged;

“You first, though.”

Draco nodded, taking a moment for yet another gulp of his Firewhiskey. Harry waited, his own glass still remained in his hand yet its contents were still untouched. 

“It’s… Well, it’s…” Draco faltered awkwardly as he began, apparently taking a second to gather his courage. Harry allowed him the courtesy of silence as he gathered himself, waiting with what he hoped was a caring, patient expression on his face. “It’s the anniversary of my mother’s death this weekend. I was planning on heading back to France, to visit her shop and sell my place for good. If I’m going to be making my own life here, my own career, I’ll need the money to get started.”

The words rang in Harry’s ears like alarm bells. He froze, almost forgetting to breathe for a moment. He knew there was so much in those few words; a wound Draco held with the first anniversary of his mother’s death, a clear intention to remain in England for good. But the only thing Harry heard was the final sentence ‘If I’m going to be making my own life here, my own career, I’ll need the money to get started’. Had Harry been an idiot all along? Had he mistaken every casual touch that seemed to last just a little too long, ever gaze that seemed to linger just a little too extensively? Had he been alone in thinking that their new found friendship, however delicate, was slowly growing into something more? ‘If I’m going to be making my own life here’. Those had been Draco’s exact words; so he still felt he needed to make a life, did he? As if to say he hadn’t already begun to make a life here already? He wanted to make a life of his own, a life that didn’t include Harry?

Draco appeared unperturbed by Harry’s silence and took it as an opportunity to continue talking. Harry was, however, so lost in his downward spiral of thoughts that he almost missed Draco’s next words;  
“I think it would be nice for teddy to come with me.”  
“No!” Harry growled out – truly growled – the ferocity of his answer took him by surprise, yet so did the ferocity of his feelings. He knew his reaction had been ignited by his emotions from Draco’s previous words, but he couldn’t help it. This was the way Harry was, the way he had always been and always would be. Hot headed, rushing into situations with his heart first, only allowing room for his head afterward. Right now his heart was screaming – screaming that Draco may well want to leave him, he may not want to stay with Harry, to share his feelings, to share his life. He might go, but he wouldn’t take Teddy. 

He would not take Teddy.

No one would take Teddy from Harry. 

“What?” Draco asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, clearing his eyes from the sharpness of Harry’s retort with a series of blinks. His expression was lost, bewildered. As if the situation was happening too fast for him to process, yet he already knew the outcome would be devastating. It was almost the look of a small muggle child dropping an ice cream cone on a hot summers day.

“You can’t just take him because you have nothing else.” Harry sneered. His heart was raging at full force now, his emotions taking control of his words. He couldn’t find himself regretting anything he said, not now, not in this moment. As far as Harry’s heart was concerned, Draco had hurt it. Rejected it and Harry’s heart was ready to fight in return. 

Malfoy’s face instantly shut down. Gone was the confused, dazed look which previously washed his features. The lines were now sharp, cold and hard. His eyes glinted as solidly as steel, his jaw set as firm as rock. When he spoke his whispered was gone, the ice cold sneer Harry hadn’t heard since their Hogwart’s days had wound its way back to the surface. “Neither can you, Potter.”

With that he stood, turning on his heel so sharply his robes billowed. Just that morning Harry had admired the fine material and even more dearly admired the way the hung, almost caressed Draco’s frame. 

Now, nothing. 

He watched Draco’s retreating back until the door of the sitting room slammed closed behind him. His last word rung in Harry’s ear;

Potter…. Potter…. Potter….

It sounded almost alien to Harry. It was the first time Draco had called him Potter in so long. The name was so cold, so detached, so far away from the hopes and dreams Harry had entered their conversation with. 

Before Harry had time to process any more of what had happened he heard a faint pop of apparition that told him Draco had gone.

Draco had gone.

Now Harry had nothing but silence as he sat and let the words sink over him. The feeling was one like being slowly submerged in an icy pool of water. He had known, of course, that his attraction to Draco had been growing. He had known well enough to want to act on it, to see what – if anything – it could become.

It wasn’t until now, until Draco had gone and he was alone, that he had realised just how lonely he had been before Draco had entered his life. In that moment Harry suddenly realised how empty his days had been before Teddy and Draco had filled them, how long his nights had been without Draco to talk to and then to dream of, how quiet his mealtimes had been without their carefree chatter filling the kitchen.

He understood, all at once, how without even noticing he had felt them becoming a family.

He understood, all at once, that he was too late.

His chance, his family, his Draco, had gone. 

It was only when Mrs Weasley’s head rose in Harry’s fireplace he realised he had been sitting, blankly staring into space, for the full – he checked the time with a brief glance at the old, ornately carved grandfather clock in the corner of the room – almost three hours since Draco’s pop of disapparation. 

“Harry?” Mrs Weasley’s voice called out, alerting him to her presence. 

He ran a hand through his messy hair and dragged it slowly down his face, snapping himself from his stupor. He hardly had time to process the thoughts he’d been lost in before he dragged himself over to the fireplace. As soon as his head came into view Mrs Weasley smiled warmly; or, as warmly as any woman who had lost a son could smile. 

“Ah, Harry. Teddy’s woken up and he’s asking for you. Do you want to pop through for him?” She asked, her features slowly turning over into the caring, mother hen expression Harry had been the subject of countless times before. “Are you ok, dear? I know it’s a long day for you, today. I can keep him if you’d like, it’s no trouble.” 

Harry shook his head, trying to force his bedraggled, downcast expression into a vain attempt at a believable smile. He wanted the distraction that Teddy would bring. “No, it’s fine, I’ll come through for him.” Harry said, pausing as he saw the concerned expression on Mrs Weasley’s face had not faded away; his fake smile had clearly done little to reassure her. “In all honesty, I’d like the distraction.” He told her and told her the truth. Of course it wasn’t about what she assumed it would be – to distract his thoughts from the memory of the end of the war, his defeat of Voldemort and the lives they lost – but about Draco. He reasoned that allowing Mrs Weasley to assume what she wanted wasn’t lying so, indeed, his words still classed as the truth. 

Truthful or not his words seemed to convince Mrs Weasley, who nodded at him with a sadly understanding smile and stepped back from the flames. As Harry stood to gather his Floo powder for the journey, thoughts of Fred danced over his mind and he only then realised the welcome distraction Teddy must have already played for Mrs Weasley today. 

“The Burrow!” He called as he stepped into the whirling green flames and felt himself tugged into the familiar whirlpool of Floo travel. As he stumbled into The Burrow’s kitchen – he’d never got the hang of Floo travel, not really – he dusted the soot from the formal robes he still wore, almost cast off balance again as Teddy collided with his leg in a forceful hug.

“Uncle Harry!” He called cheerily as Harry leant down to brush a hand through his hair. 

“Hey,” Harry greeted, bending down to sweep Teddy into his arms. As the young boys arms locked around his shoulders Harry took a moment to bury his head in his hair, breathing in the scent of pumpkin juice and dirt and all things Teddy so strongly it almost brought tears to his eyes. He lifted his head again to find Hermione had, thankfully, departed from the kitchen she’d occupied before. “Let’s get you home, yeah?”

Teddy nodded against Harry’s shoulder, apparently as content to cuddle against him as Harry was to hold him. He nodded over to Mrs Weasley in farewell as he edged back towards the fireplace, moving Teddy over onto his hip to free a hand to fill with Floo powder. 

The moment they landed back in the familiar fireplace of Grimmauld Place Teddy was wriggling in Harry’s arms as he strained to get to the ground.

“Lots of energy after your afternoon nap!” Harry chuckled as he lowered Teddy dutifully to the floor.

“I just want to see Draco!” Teddy called as he bounded happily across the room, making Harry’s heart sink like a stone. “Where is he?” The young boy called back over his shoulder.

Harry’s insides seem to freeze, shrivel up and disappear all in one breath. He was all too painfully reminded of the similar moment months ago when Draco had returned to France. Teddy had been just as excited to see him and would likely be just as devastated to find him gone. But, Harry told himself firmly, things since then had changed. First and foremost Harry’s feelings toward Draco had changed; he knew, deep down, he’d reacted hot headedly to Draco’s words and he only had himself to blame for the mess he was in and because of that he knew he could also be the one to fix it. For that reason he knew that this time he didn’t have to lie when he told Teddy;

“He had to go back to France, but he’ll be back to see you soon. I promise. He said goodbye.” Harry conjured the best reassuring smile his tired features could manage and waited as Teddy paused for a moment, his head softly dropped to one side as he took in the news. 

Harry sagged with relief as Teddy nodded, his expression suddenly brightening as he exclaimed “I hope he brings me some of those sweeties! I told him I miss them. Can I go and play?” Harry nodded, wearily allowing his fake smile to fade away as his godson flew from the room, thankful that his forced smile could convince Teddy much more than it could Mrs Weasley. 

When the sounds of Teddy playing in his room above reached Harry he strode toward the stairs with determination, taking them two at a time with the force of his purpose. He soon reached the study and swung the door open, pulling open the drawer of the desk as he sank down into the old, worn leather chair beside it. Soon enough he had found himself a quill, parchment and ink and, with the nib of his quill dibbed into the wet of the ink, was poised to write his letter.

That night, however, the only thing to wet the parchment was the fat, wet, soundless tears which dripped, rolling from his eyes and over his cheeks into puddles on the creamy page below.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter - thank you to all those that have read and enjoyed and a special thanks to those that have commented as I've wtitten. Your kind words mean a lot!

The days passed, three of them, in much the same way. Harry would fill his days with work, his evenings with Teddy and his nights with staring at an empty, taunting piece of parchment and a shaking quill, never finding the words he needed to transfer to the page.

One evening after Harry had just finished drying Teddy’s hair after his bath – a task Harry preffered to do by hand rather than magically, when time allowed, to feel the close comfort of Teddy under his hands - Harry felt, rather than heard, a pop of apparition and a faint knock against the front door. For the briefest moment, every part of Harry froze. Who was it? Ron, Hermione and the other Weasley’s could, of course, apparate of Floo directly inside. Not only did the wards on number 12 prevent anyone else from apparating inside the walls of Harry’s home, he had also chosen to keep the placement of number 12 protected by continuing the Secret Keeper’s charms laid on the property during the war – it had helped Harry avoid the brunt of obnoxious reporters and desperate fans. 

Of course, Harry was overlooking one more person who had been allowed addition to the wards of Harry’s home. 

Malfoy.

He raced down several flights of stairs to the door with a speed that could only be rivalled by a child running down to a sack of presents on Christmas morning and with an enormous, churning feeling of apprehension in his stomach. He knew his eagerness to reach the door would be betrayed in his shortness of breath and, most obviously, in the features he knew his facial muscles had no hope of controlling. As he reached the old, ornately carved front door he leant forward and pulled it open to reveal the visitor on his doorstep.

There, of course, stood Draco. He looked almost unearthly, his pale, flawless skin and golden hair shining out against the dark night sky behind him, illuminated by the soft glow of the moon and the brighter muggle street lamps behind him. He was dressed in a thick, heavy travelling cloak which hid most of his body from Harrys gaze. His face was set, impassive toward any emotion, his grey eyes staring straight, almost blankly ahead.

“Potter.” He nodded briefly, his voice as worryingly empty as his expression. “I wish to visit with Teddy. May I come in?” 

Harry could do nothing but nod dumbfounded in return and stepped back to allow Draco – or, given the blondes cool address, should it be Malfoy now? – into the house. Harry watched as the man stepped graciously past him, the heavy billows of material from his cloak following behind him. Draco then looked up the stairs – as Harry knew he would always now be Draco to him, no matter what Harry became to him – and turned to face him with nothing more than a slightly questioning glance betraying his controlled expression.

“He’s just had his bath. He’ll be getting a book and no doubt be down in a few minutes for his drink and story, anyway.” Harry said softly, knowing the question was for Teddy’s presence, yet wishing he could take it as a chance to explain away his previous, shameful actions. 

“Very good, as it happens, it would probably be better to speak with you first.” Draco said, his voice still remaining eerily detached, as if making polite small talk with a stranger. Harry felt the breath in his throat catch, hoping for a chance to speak, to explain, to apologise. Harry knew that his facial expressions were less schooled than Draco’s and knew his hope had been betrayed by his expression when Draco raised a single, still hand which halted the words in Harry’s mind more effectively than a silencing charm. “My home and business in France have been securely tied off.” He paused, dropping the hand he once held to silence Harry and returning it to his robes. Harry waited in silence, unable to stop the blossom of hope building in his belly. He knew if he could just push past the cool exterior Draco was showing him, if he could just explain and apologise, that he could save whatever it was they had, or were beginning to have. When the hand reappeared from his robes it held a small, folded square of parchment out for Harry to take. Then, his words crumbled Harry’s heart and squashed every inch of his hope. “The address of a property I have taken in London, not too far from here. When you have carried out any tests on the wards you may wish to undertake, I would like Teddy to visit. Of course it will be better for Teddy to remain living here, where he has begun to feel safe, although I would like him to stay with me too, at times. I have plans to re-open my potions store just outside of Diagon Alley and I have managed to convince one of my finest assistants to move over from France to make it possible. I do not feel the need to arrange for any formal arrangements of how we will share Teddy’s guardianship as I believe you to be fair enough to allow me equal access. Of course, if you are not, I shall feel no hesitation in returning to the Ministry.” Malfoy’s eyes glittered with promise as he spoke his final sentence, the only trace of emotion he had allowed in either his tone or his expression since his monologue began. Harry stood and stared without words, unable to allow himself from wallowing in despair. The determined tone and pace of Draco’s words had made it clear his decision had been made, that Harry was too late and that an apology would do no good. He did not trust himself to speak as opening his mouth may betray his devestation. Instead he stalled for time by lifting his hand to meet Draco’s and take the offered parchment. He tried, yet failed, to ignore the feeling when his skin brushed Draco’s. The sparks of feeling the simple touch invoked were enough to make Harry falter, tears had sprung to dampen his eyes and he readied himself to look up at Draco, to force an apology on him if it would do good or not –

“Draco!” Teddy’s excitable voice rang out from the staircase behind, soon followed by the eager thudding of young footsteps. Of course, as Harry had predicted, Teddy had come to seek out Harry for his bedtime story. 

“Teddy.” Draco replied. Harry lifted his gaze in time to see that the cold, absent expression had disappeared from Draco’s face to be replaced with a smile so bright it almost blinded him. Of course, Harry knew that such a statement was ridiculous, but it felt as though it would, if Draco would just turn that smile to him.

Of course he didn’t. Instead he swept Teddy up into a hug, cradling him tightly before letting him go with a ruffle of his hair. 

“Did you get me a present?” He asked eagerly bouncing before his cousin, making Draco chuckle and chipping another piece from Harry’s thumping heart.

“Of course,” he replied, sweeping his hand back inside the thick travelling cloak he wore and producing an elegantly wrapped bag at the sight of which Teddy’s eyes widened immediately.

“Yes!” He declared with a joyful woop as he clutched the bag tightly in his small hand. “I told Uncle Harry I wanted them. Are you back now?” 

Harry watched as Draco crouched down to Teddy’s level and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m back in England, yes. But I’m not back here with you. This isn’t my home, I only lived here with you for a while until I found my own place.” He explained carefully as the young boys expression turned from excitement to sorrow. “Of course you will come and visit me, if you want to; I’ve got a bedroom just waiting for you.” Harry knew that now Draco was talking to Teddy his emotions were out in full force and, although the blonde had his back to Harry as he faced Teddy, he didn’t need to see his face to know the uncertainty and hope held there as he could clearly hear it wavering the words he spoke. 

The look of sorrow which had momentarily troubled Teddy’s features was gone and he smiled brightly. His nods were so exuberant Harry thought his head may rock right off his shoulders before he flung himself at Draco’s legs for another hug. Harry looked down at the carpet below his feet, unable to watch anymore of the scene. His heart and head hurt too much, it was far too painful to so closely watch a scene he wanted to be part of. 

“Uncle Harry was going to read my bedtime story, but you can before you go, can’t you?” The hope in Teddy’s voice was undeniable and Harry swallowed thickly. It was no longer that he thought Teddy preferred Draco to him, he knew he loved them equally, but the desire he had to lift his head and offer they both read the story to Teddy then retire for a drink or two and talk softly together as they once had. 

“That depends what your Uncle Harry says, this is his house.” Draco replied and Harry knew that he would have to straighten his face and look back over. He tried to ignore the painful twist in his stomach and the instinct to say ‘it’s your house too’. Still feeling that words may betray him he simply lifted his gaze, smiled at Teddy and nodded, pointing his head toward the stairs. After a long, deep swallow and an internal deep breathe to steady his emotions he allowed himself to say. “Of course, I trust you know the way.” 

Draco nodded in return, taking Teddy’s hand in his as they started toward the stairs. “I’ll see myself out.” He said before turning up the stairs, leaving Harry standing in the corridor, alone in every way. 

-0-

That night Harry had retreated to the living room, poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey and had taken solace in the burning amber liquid. He had poured himself his third glass when he heard the soft footfalls he had come to instinctively know as Draco’s pad down the stairs and held his breath as the front door creaked open, closed and a faint pop of apparition told him that he had gone. He had then hurled the full glass at the far wall, watching the glass smash and the liquid spray out across the tapestry which hung on it, from then on choosing to drink from the bottle instead. 

After that, almost a year had passed in much the same way. 

Harry had conversed with Draco only in short, formal owls where he discussed nothing more than Teddy’s welfare and the times which Teddy would spend with him. 

He had returned to work, throwing himself into his job like never before and climbing the ranks of the Auror’s with a determination he had never known he had before. At the same time he saw Draco build his career and respect in his own right. His shop did well and soon became well respected - from what Harry read in the Prophet at least – and Harry had found himself with a pride he wished he could share with the man he held it for. 

He had also, most importantly, returned to his friendships. He had visited Ron and Hermione as soon as their daughter Rose was born and apologised sincerely for the way he had kept them at distance over the years. Hermione had become tearful and hugged him tightly and Ron had blinked back his emotions and clapped Harry roughly on the back and had called him a bloody prat. Hermione had immediately scolded him for using such words around their daughter – only a few days old – and Harry and Ron had exchanged that look, the one they had so often when they found themselves against the force of Hermione in Hogwarts and knew they would lose. Just like that, their slowly drifting bonds were repaired and Harry felt, for the first time since Draco had left, that he had something but Teddy that was positive in his life. 

Time passed more quickly than Harry would have believed possible. Soon enough he found himself awakening of the 1st of April, anxious at the thought of Teddy’s birthday a few weeks away as he remembered the promise he had made to himself almost a year ago; that he would make Teddy’s next birthday a happy one. Harry had the day off, yet had dropped Teddy off at Draco’s that morning. To ward of his loneliness, and to seek help in planning a birthday party for his godson, he sought out his friends, as glad as ever that he had found his way back to them. Ron had gone back to work yet Hermione remained at home to care for Rose and she warmly invited him inside.  
Motherhood suited her well and Harry enjoyed sitting back, watching her cradle Rose as he drank the tea she always offered. They sat in the cosy living room - which Harry knew would be much larger if Hermione hadn’t lined almost every wall with bookshelves - talking about when Hermione might return to work when Rose began to cry. 

“Oh dear.” Hermione said softly, lifting Rose’s face to meet hers and giving her baby a mothers knowing look. “I think someone needs changing. You’ll be ok, won’t you Harry?”

Harry smiled and nodded, wrinkling his nose with fake disgust. “Of course I will, as long as you don’t do it near me!” He laughed watching Hermione as she took her daughter from the room, softly soothing her cries. He stretched back on the sofa, seeing a copy of the Daily Prophet on the table before him. He frowned to himself, suddenly realising he hadn’t had his own copy that morning. He made a mental note to ask Kreacher about it and pulled the paper toward him. The headline which blazed across the front was something of little interest to Harry – a conspiracy story which the Prophet had been running for some time about the Goblin’s and their control over the gold in Gringott’s – so he quickly flipped the cover open and moved onto the next page. 

He found himself, quite instantly, wishing he hadn’t.

Blazoned on the second page was a headline which read; MIXING BUSINESS WITH PLEASURE? MALFOYS MIXTURES BREWS MORE THAN BUSINESS. Under the bold words was a picture of Malfoy and the man Harry had soon found out from the coverage the Prophet gave the store as it gained prestige was the ‘finest assistant’ Malfoy had spoken of moving from France to restart his business in England with him. The picture itself was grainy at best, but Harry could clearly pick out Malfoy’s blonde head in the door of his shop, pulling his assistant through over the threshold and into a tight embrace before the door swung closed and that photograph replayed. 

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione’s soft voice startled Harry when she re-entered the room with Rose cradled quietly against her once more. “You shouldn’t have seen that.” 

Harry looked up and had thrown the paper away without interest in what the words beneath the image had to say. A picture, as the muggle saying went, could speak a thousand words. Harry had often wondered to himself how muggles could have a saying which was far truer in wizarding culture, but that wasn’t what he wondered in that moment. He looked up at Hermione, seeing her sadly shake her head as she put Rose down into her cot and sat beside Harry on the sofa. 

“I saw what you were like when he left. I know you never said anything to me but, well, after our conversation after the anniversary of the battle…” Hermione trailed off with a pause and a knowing look which Harry accepted with a nod; in all honesty he felt relieved to finally be able to share his feelings with someone. “So I, as a precaution, asked Kreacher to get rid of your copy of the Prophet when I saw that this morning. I should have thought to get rid of mine too.” 

His friend sounded so annoyed with herself with her last words Harry shook his head and said firmly to her; “this isn’t your fault. It isn’t his, either. It’s mine. He has every right to be with whoever he wants. I had my chance and I buggered it up spectacularly.” He frowned, looking down at the paper he had cast away. As it to mock him it had fallen open at the page he had thrown it to avoid and Harry could see the replaying image of Draco embracing his assistant.

“The only thing that is at fault with you is your attitude.” Hermione said firmly, taking Harry by surprise with her sudden statement. “I’ve watched you mope around for almost a year now Harry and I’ve had enough. I’ve wanted to help you, but you never said anything and I didn’t want to interfere, although I’ve always had my suspicions.” She looked over to Harry and saw where his gaze was direct and sighed, vanishing the paper with a silent flick of her wand. “Now I see I was right.” She said, her voice suddenly softening. “You haven’t tried, Harry. I don’t know what went on between you, but I can see it in your eyes. You haven’t had this chance you speak of, because you haven’t told him how you feel, have you?” 

Harry shook his head, now casting his gaze down to the empty tea cup in his hands. Hermione gently reached out, took the cup from his grasp and placed her hand in his. The gentle squeeze she gave him was enough to make Harry’s eyes glimmer with tears which he blink furiously away before he looked up to meet her gaze. “I ruined my chance to do that.” He muttered, thinking back to the painful night when Draco had retuned and Harry had been convinced he had missed the chance to apologise forever. 

“Then you need to make a chance.” Hermione told him. Her voice was gentle yet decisive, and her eyes were open and compassionate. “I can’t pretend to understand why, but he made you happy. More notably, he’s made you sad. I’m not the only one who’s noticed, Ron has too.” Harry cursed himself inwardly; until that moment he’d been convinced he had done a good job of masking his loneliness from his friends. 

“How do I make a chance then?” He asked, already knowing his friend wouldn’t have an answer. How could she when Harry had spent months searching for one of his own? “He won’t speak to me. He only owls me when it’s about Teddy and I only see him when I drop him off.”

“Teddy’s birthday of course.” She said, offering him a smile as if the suggestion were the most obvious thing in the world. “You say you only speak when it regards Teddy; well he’d have to come to his birthday party, wouldn’t he? Then you could find a chance to speak to him.” Harry knew his expression betrayed how uncertain he felt and Hermione shook her head softly in response to it. “At least you could try. Even if he doesn’t listen to you, you will have the chance to say what you’re feeling. If he doesn’t listen, well… He’s a bigger fool than I ever thought.” 

“The ferret’s always been an idiot, Hermione.” Ron’s voice startled them both. Harry snapped his head up, seeing Ron standing in the doorway of the living room. How long he had been there, Harry had no idea, although it was clearly long enough to have heard most of their conversation. 

Harry felt his insides twist. It was one thing admitting his feelings to Hermione; after their conversation before Draco left for France, he had always suspected she knew the feelings he harboured. But Ron… 

“Mate, like Hermione says… I don’t bloody get it; he was always a right git. But she’s right, if he’s going to make you happy, you should try.” His best friends words melted away all the apprehension he had held and he felt his body sag with the force of his relieved sigh. 

“Any ideas for this party then?” Harry asked, eager to turn the conversation away from Draco as soon as possible, hardly daring to allow himself the seed of hope which had blossomed in the pit of his stomach.

“Not a clue mate.” Ron said, throwing himself down into one of the armchairs opposite the sofa Harry and Hermione occupied. “Mum’s the one you need for that, she didn’t raise seven kids without throwing a party or two.”

Harry, for the first time in a long time, gave a true smile. Even if he denied the dangerous feelings of hope which had begun to claw at him from inside, he knew he would always have his friends. 

-o- 

Harry soon found himself engulfed by the whirlwind which was Molly Weasley. He had always known the fierce maternal instincts she had but he didn’t think he’d ever seen anything like the look on the witches face when he told her of his plans for a birthday party, fuelled by the guilt of the promise he made on Teddy’s previous birthday. She had planned, sent invites and baked one of the most impressive cakes Harry had ever seen. Harry had only found himself intervening when plans had been made to hold the party at The Burrow – he had found himself nervous enough at the prospect of inviting Draco and he didn’t think that holding the event in a stronghold of Weasley’s, however much Draco had changed since the war, would give much hope toward his attendance. 

An evening a week before Teddy’s birthday Draco brought the young boy back to Gimmuald Place after spending the night with him. As always Teddy hugged Harry fiercely as he opened the door then turned to hug Draco just as fiercely in goodbye before running through the door and disappearing. As soon as his cousin had disappeared Draco turned on his heal, barely gracing Harry with a nod as he said “goodnight, Potter.”

“Wait!” Harry called, then instantly cursed himself for the high-pitched, strangled tone in which the word left his lips. It wasn’t like he was telling Draco anything yet, merely inviting him to the party. He had originally planned to do so via owl and then told himself to pick up his supposed Gryffindor courage and actually talk to Draco face to face. After all, if he could bring himself to offer a simple invite in person, how could he hope to achieve the intimacy of a conversation where he could explain the tangled emotions of his mind?

Draco turned back on the spot, his eyebrow arched in questioning. As always his face was impassive, his eyes void of any emotion and his lips set into a slim, firm line. “Yes?” 

“It’s Teddy’s birthday next Saturday.” He stated then berated himself for stating the obvious. “Well, you know that, obviously, but what I mean is I’m throwing a birthday party for him. He deserves a happy birthday after last year…” Harry paused uncomfortably, swallowing the emotions that particular thought always gave him before he continued “and, well, it would make him much happier if you came, obviously.” Harry knew his words were clumsy and awkward and it was all he could do not to kick himself. If he tripped over his words simply inviting him to the party, he would never be able to master the elegance and eloquence an apology to Draco would undoubtedly require. 

Malfoy paused, genuine surprise appearing to flicker through his careful mask for just a moment, before he once again tightened his expression and nodded. “You’ll owl me the details?” He asked.  
“Of course.” Harry replied, a little too eagerly, but found himself unable to hold back his tone. True, Draco hadn’t been overcome with gratitude about the invitation and, well, he hadn’t exactly accepted it, but he hadn’t downright refused Harry’s offer either. In return Draco merely nodded and turned once again to walk away. This time Harry let him go, closing the door behind him with a genuine smile as he bounded up the stairs after Teddy, in search of a hug from his godson and, importantly, a quill, parchment and ink. 

After he had found Teddy had already happily settled himself back into his bedroom and was playing what appeared to be a complicated imaginary game involving his stuffed dragon, a toy kneazle and an chocolate frog packet he had declared ‘the goblins gold’ he slipped away to his study in search of what he needed to send the details of the party to Draco. 

He eagerly dipped his quill into the ink and scrawled; 

Saturday 21st April, 1pm. Surprise birthday party here at Grimmuald Place. 

He hesitated; his quill hovered above the parchment for so long it cast a blob of ink down onto the page which made Harry swear under his breath as he vanished the stain away with his wand. Giving himself the kick of confidence he needed, he continued; 

Feel free to bring a guest.  
Harry

He told himself, in his logical mind, that if Draco brought his assistant – whose name Harry still did not know, and did not care to know – that the speculations in the Prophet were true and that Harry had no hope, anyway. Although he knew deep down that even if Draco did turn up with a guest, that wouldn’t stop Hermione from forcing Harry on him anyway. 

He went to seek out his owl, glancing at his watch as he did so. He realised then that only half an hour had passed. Draco would, of course, arrived home instantly thanks to apparition but the speed of Harry’s invitation would give away more of the eagerness Harry had shown at the door… And who was to say Draco would even be alone? He could be spending the night with his assistant which would further humiliate Harry’s eagerness when the owl arrived. 

Firmly telling himself he was being an idiot Harry went to his owl’s perch and securely attached the note to its leg. He offered an owl treat as thanks for the journey and received an affectionate nibble of the bird’s beak in return. Harry watched as the elegant wings spread out into the night sky then turned away from the window in search of Teddy and the distraction he would bring.

He had, not long later, just finished changing Teddy for bed and had settled him in the covers with a promise of a real story – Teddy had suddenly become fond of real stories about Harry’s life rather than the books that lined his shelves and Harry was all too happy to oblige him, with some details carefully omitted, of course – when a tap at the window took him by surprise. His owl had already returned and, by the looks of the parchment attached to its leg, had a reply.

Harry jumped to the window to let the bird in, impatiently freeing the note from its leg. The response was short, and offered Harry no clue as to Draco’s relationship with his assistant, but it made Harry smile all the same.

I’ll be there.

Harry folded the note and slipped it into his pocket and saw that Teddy was watching him keenly as he made his way back to his bed. 

“Who’s that from?” He asked as Harry sat beside him.

“Draco.”

Teddy looked up at Harry’s face, eyeing him carefully as he smiled. “Are you friends again?” He asked, offering Harry a smile in return. 

Harry didn’t question how his godson had picked up on the indifference between him and Draco – they had always been perfectly civil to each other when Teddy was around – but smiled at his ability to read adult situations. “I don’t know, Ted. I hope so.” He answered truthfully, tucking his arm around his godson.

“Me too.” Teddy replied, nestling his head into the crook of Harry’s arm. Harry said nothing, smiled softly although Teddy’s position meant he could not see it, and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head. “What story would you like?”

“One about my daddy and your daddy, when they were at school,” he requested, already sleepy enough that the story would need to be a short one if the tone of his voice was anything to judge by. Harry’s smile grew broader in response; of course, these stories were nothing more to Harry than stories themselves, tales he know felt would be passed on through the generations – from Lupin and Sirius to him, from him to Teddy. He knew how much comfort the stories of his father had brought to him when Sirius and Lupin had offered them to him and he was happy to be able to offer the same to Teddy. 

“Well, at Hogwarts, as you already know they had a special map which showed the whole school and everyone in it…” 

\---ooo----

The Saturday of Teddy’s birthday dawned a bright, clear and sunny day. Harry smiled to himself, hoping that the weather was an omen for the day ahead. Even if it wasn’t, the sunny weather meant that the doors at the back of the kitchen could be opened up and that the party could be stretched out onto the garden. As Harry looked out of the window to the large, yet narrow expanse of grass behind number 12, he smiled to himself as he remembered the day he and Draco had begun to clear it when Teddy had requested the chance to play outside. It had been overgrown and unattractive and had provided quite the challenge. Kreacher had almost gone crazy when he caught them working away and demanded they leave him to do the ‘job the proper elf must do for his masters’. As the memory began to fade away Harry frowned with longing, but forced the feelings away. Today he would find a moment to talk with Draco, to offer his apology and – if he could summon the courage – his feelings. If Draco arrived with a guest, if Draco accepted his apology, if Draco returned his feelings… They were all ifs and Harry had no power over them; all he could do was deliver the words he had already carefully rehearsed countless times since Draco’s owl confirmed his attendance. 

An excited woop as his bedroom door burst open dragged Harry instantly from his thoughts. He laughed, turning around to see Teddy happily bounding through the door. 

“Happy birthday!” Harry said as he bent low to sweep his godson into a hug then over onto his shoulders, making him squeal with delight. “Would you like to open some presents?”

After Teddy had opened presents from Harry and various Weasley’s he frowned, looking around the living room that Harry had piled the presents in as if there were one he had missed. 

“Have I not got a present from Draco?” He asked, his voice suddenly small and timid. Harry instantly held out his hand, motioning for his godson to come over. 

“Of course you have, he wanted to give it to you himself, that’s all. He will drop it round later.” Harry soothed him, pulling him to sit on his lap.

“But won’t we miss him, if we’re going to Granny Molly’s?” He asked, frowning with worry at the thought of missing his visit. Of course Harry had told Teddy they were going to The Burrow for a birthday lunch, keeping every trace of the party a surprise. 

“We won’t.” Harry said firmly. He knew he offered no explanation why but his tone was certain and unyielding, a tone that an adult could use with a child and expect no further questions. Indeed Teddy accepted this and nodded, burrowing into Harry’s side for a moment more before he slid of his lap and picked up a toy from the pile of presents he had unwrapped. 

The morning passed in a blur of Teddy demanding to play with toy after toy until Harry had lost all sense of time. After a while he sat back, watching his godson leap around excitedly after a toy snitch and smiled happily to himself. The piles of gifts Teddy had received could be thought of as extravagant but, after a childhood devoid of any pleasures, he was determined to make sure wanted for nothing. Of course, deep down Harry knew that the one thing he would always want for was the one thing Harry never received himself and, sadly, could never give. He frowned as he thought of Lupin, Tonks and Andromeda. Teddy would always want parents, always want a family. 

As he listened to the joyous bubbles of Teddy’s laughter as he raced around the room Harry knew he had the confidence to say what he had to say to Draco. He had the chance to make sure Teddy wanted for one less thing – true, he and Draco could never be his true parents – but they could make a family. 

Soon enough it was time to drag Teddy away from the pile of presents and take his upstairs to get dressed. Harry selected his robes carefully, choosing a pair of emerald green robes he knew would bring out his eyes. Not that he thought himself overly attractive, but he was a decent looking bloke, and if he could pull out one of the features he had a feeling Draco liked, what was the harm in that?

He smoothed his robes down in the mirror and moved into Teddy’s room. Teddy, of course, had made no attempt to change from his pyjamas and had re-released the toy snitch to chase it around his room. Harry laughed, scooping Teddy up over his shoulder. “It’s time for you to get ready!” He insisted as he caught the snitch in the hand that wasn’t holding Teddy, smiling to himself when he saw that his natural seekers instincts hadn’t dulled over the years. 

Once the snitch was safely back in its case and Teddy was dressed Harry took his hand and led him toward the stairs. He knew that all the Weasley’s has entrance to his Floo and that they would all have arrived to set the party up in the kitchen and out in the gardens beyond. Draco, of course, was still keyed into the wards but had not used the luxury since the day he left. Harry wondered for a moment if he had arrived with his usual knock at the door and who had answered him. He hoped that it had been Hermione or Ron; true, they might not be genuinely pleased to see him for their own sakes, but they would be for Harry’s. Pushing his thoughts away he guided Teddy down the stairs and toward the closed door of the kitchen. 

Teddy, of course, pushed it open without a second thought. Harry was close behind when a chorus of “HAPPY BIRTHDAY TEDDY!” filled the air. The Weasley’s packed out the kitchen, minus Charlie who was in Romania still – Molly and Arthur, Hermione, Ron and baby Rose, Bill, Fleur and their daughter Victorie, Percy with his wife and daughter, George and Angelina and, of course, Ginny. Harry smiled to them all and to the few other guests in attendance, Andromeda’s formed neighbour who had children of a similar age for Teddy to befriend. What was most notable to Harry, however, was who wasn’t there. He looked over at the clock; five minutes past one. He had told Draco the party started at one and he was never late. Was he not coming? Surely not, he wouldn’t do that to Teddy. But then again, Teddy had no idea the party was happening. Draco could come and visit him later with no hard feelings. 

Teddy turned to look up at Harry, his eyes bright with wonder. “This is my party?” He asked, his voice high pitched with disbelief. 

“Yes,” he said, affectionately ruffling Teddy’s hair and giving him a smile. His godson returned the smile so bright and happily it made Harry’s heart ached before he barrelled into the room squeaking excitedly. He instantly made a beeline for Victorie and a small, mousey haired boy who had lived next door to Teddy whose name Harry could not remember. 

He went around each guest with a welcoming smile and a thanks for coming before he reached Hermione. “Draco?” He asked, unable to keep the hope from creeping into his tone. Hermione did nothing more than offer him a look which contained such pity it almost made his stomach turn. He looked away, unable to subject himself to the disappointment. 

“I’m sure he’ll be here.” She soothed, reaching out a hand to rub his arm consolingly. 

“Yeah..” Harry said, mustering a smile he knew wouldn’t convince her before standing to grab a butterbeer and join the animated conversation Ron and George we having about quidditch. He only half listened to the conversation, interjecting nods and murmurs of approval where necessary. He spent most of his time looking out of the kitchen window, watching Teddy play with his friends. He seemed so content it made Harry’s heart swell and forget the pain of Draco’s absence. 

He was so lost in watching their games he didn’t notice the soft hand on his elbow, only heard Molly Weasley’s voice as she whispered in his ear. “Someone’s here to see you, Harry dear.” Harry jerked his head toward her, shooting her a questioning glance. She merely smiled, nodding her head down the long corridor which led to the front door. There he saw Draco standing in the open doorway of number 12. Before he was even aware that his feet were carrying him Harry sped toward the door, taking in every inch of Draco standing before him. He had clearly taken as much effort in his appearance as Harry did; not that it took Draco much effort to look handsome, obviously. He had chosen a pair of almost silver robes which shone in the sunlight which bathed the front step. His hair was, as always, neatly styled and the sun illuminated his face in a way which made his cheek bones as prominent and strong as ever. What Harry noticed most of all, however, was the thing that made Draco most attractive in that moment.

He was here and he was alone.

“Draco.” He said as he reached the door, gesturing for him to come inside. Draco nodded, but didn’t return the friendly greeting.

“Sorry I’m a little late… I didn’t know how a crowd of Weasley’s would receive me without you there.” He admitted as he stepped inside, the material of his robes swaying against him in a way which just outlined his body, showing a suggestion of broad shoulders that made Harry’s mouth water in a way that it shouldn’t. Not before he had apologised, at least.

“They were expecting you.” He told him as he closed the door behind him. “Ron and Hermione were hoping to see you.” He added, telling himself it was the truth. It was, in a way. They were hoping to see him, for Teddy and Harry’s sake if not their own. Draco raised a withering eyebrow but nothing more, casting his gaze down the corridor. 

“Teddy?” He asked, providing Harry with no more in roads to conversation. He nodded down the corridor, deciding it best to let Draco spend some time with Teddy before he tried to confront him. At least that way, if Draco was driven away by Harry’s attempts at an apology, Teddy would know he hadn’t missed his party. 

“He’s outside.” Harry told him, leading him down the corridor and telling himself that the way he swayed down the corridor was a natural happiness to his step in celebration of his godson’s birthday, not a blatant attempt to get Draco to look at his arse. Merlin, he’d belong in the lonely hearts columns of Witch Weekly if he carried on. 

“Thanks.” Draco nodded as they reached the kitchen, Harry gesturing to the door which would lead outside onto the back garden, although, of course, Draco already knew it well. Harry followed him outside as most guests had now taken themselves outdoors anyway as the fine April day offered a glorious chance to sit in the sunshine. Hermione was sitting under the shade of a large tree, swinging softly with Rose gurgling happily in her lap. When she saw Harry and Draco walk out onto the garden she caught Harry’s eye and offered him an encouraging smile. He tried his best to return it but, with apprehension churning in his stomach, found it difficult. 

“Draco!” Teddy’s excitable voice called as soon as he saw his cousin, bounding over to greet him and receive his birthday gift. Harry watched their exchange for a moment before going to the table of food and drink Molly had carefully laid out under protective charms to collect himself another butterbeer. 

“Are you ok, dear?” Molly asked him as she approached from behind, yet again taking him by surprise.

“Me? I’m fine.” He said, smiling distractedly at her as he sought out Teddy and Draco once again. He had opened his present from Draco – a toy broomstick. He was showing it off excitedly to his friends and, before Harry knew it, was bounding over to Harry. 

“Uncle Harry! Uncle Harry! Look what Draco got me!” He squealed, pushing the broom in Harry’s face. Harry smiled down at Teddy, nodding at the gift.

“It’s great Ted. You going to have a go?” 

“Well I told Draco you got me a toy snitch and I thought I could try and get it. Can you get it Uncle Harry? With your wand? Please?” Teddy’s eyes were so bright with joy Harry could hardly refuse. He chuckled to himself, pulling his wand from his robes and muttering ‘Accio Snitch’. Soon enough to case came flying from an upstairs window, landing neatly in Harry’s palm. He passed the toy over to his godson who cheered in delight, turning on his heal and flying back towards Draco and his friends. “It’s here Draco, look, the snitch Uncle Harry got me! Now we can try and catch it!” He called happily as he ran away.

“You don’t look fine.” Molly spoke gently, her presence so silent as he spoke with Teddy Harry had forgotten she was there. “I’m no fool, Harry. I saw the way you defended him so fiercely and I’ve seen how low you’ve been lately. I saw your face when I told you he’d arrived and I knew.” 

Harry merely gaped at her, disbelieving that she was taking the conversation so calmly. The surprise must have shown of his features as she instantly shook her head, although her smile never faded, and she added; 

“Make no mistake, Harry, I’m not saying I understand this. I’d be much happier with another choice… I’d have been much happier if you had stayed with Ginny.” She sighed and the sound was so sad, so wistful, that Harry had to fight back guilt. “But as I said, you’re a son to me and always will be. Family stick together, no matter what choices we make.” Harry noticed how her gaze lingered on Percy as she spoke, a signal of how forgiving the Weasley family could be. “If he makes you happy, dear, I think we’ve all known enough loss to know that life is too short.” She patted his arm softly and, before he could mutter a single word of response, disappeared into the garden, seeking out a conversation with a pregnant Fleur.

Harry watched wordlessly as she left, his heart bursting with love for his adoptive family. He slunk back toward where Ron and George now gathered with Bill and joined their conversation. None made a comment about Draco’s presence and Harry was glad. He fell into the easy conversation, trading jokes and jibes with the brothers as if he had always been one. His attention, however, was never completely diverted from Draco. He watched as he continually helped Teddy to mount his broom, brushing him off with a laugh after each tumble.

“Cake!” Molly called, her voice so loud and booming after raising seven children that she didn’t need a Snorus charm to gain everyones attention. Everyone gathered around the large cake she had placed in the centre of the table and, helped along by a charm Hermione span to play a tune in the background, began to sing. 

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Teddy…”

As they sang Harry’s gaze shifted to Draco who stood on the edge of the party, singing along but staring back at Harry. Harry offered him a tentative smile which, to his relief, was returned. He turned back to the cake with the smile still firmly in place, newly determined to seek Draco out as soon as possible. 

When the song and applause were over Molly began to cut the cake, first feeding the hungry little hands which tugged around the hems of her skirts before slicing more for the equally hungry adults she called sons. Harry watched as Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron’s blatant attempts to jump the queue and, out of the corner of his eye saw Draco slip away.

This was his chance. 

He approached cautiously, slowly stepping over the grass to the shadowed seclusion of a heavy oak tree by the foot of the garden. Draco had already leant himself against its solid trunk, the casual posture of his body at odds with the intense look in his eyes as he gazed out at the party guests spilled across the garden. Good, Harry thought, he won’t notice me coming. As he slipped up on the opposite side of the tree he found his confidence faltering, his throat drying, choking back the apology he had so carefully prepared. He swallowed several times, trying to find the strength he needed to push the words from his lips.

“I know you’re there, you might as well come round.” Draco’s voice was so soft that it startled Harry. He hadn’t called him Potter, he noted – true, he hadn’t called him Harry as he once would – but not Potter. That, along with the gentle tone to his voice, coaxed Harry from his spot on the other side of the tree to a spot beside Draco. Draco didn’t alter the direction of his gaze even though he must have felt Harry move beside him; he simply stood, waiting silently. 

Harry knew he had to speak, yet he still couldn’t summon the words of his apology. 

“Remember when we cleared out this garden?” He blurted out instead.

Draco was silent for a moment and Harry instantly cursed himself. Now he would probably sneer at Harry, walk away and gone would be the only chance he’d had at making things right. 

“Yeah,” Draco replied eventually, with a faint trace of what Harry hoped, but didn’t dare believe, was amusement. “Hottest day of the year, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Harry replied, trying to adjust to the sudden casual tone of their conversation. It was alien to him, after so long, discussing such trivial matters with him. Not only that, but he knew there were so much more important things he needed to say. Nevertheless he continued; “thank Merlin for cooling charms.”

“Thank Merlin for Kreacher, taking over from us.” Draco shot back and this time Harry definitely heard the tone of laughter in his voice. 

“You didn’t bring a guest.” Harry stated, suddenly shifting the conversation. He hadn’t realised he’d begun to speak the words before they were tumbling from his lips with Harry too late and too helpless to stop them. He dared a glance at Draco and, although Harry could only see his profile, he saw the blink of confusion that past across his face.

“No, I didn’t. Who would I bring?” Draco asked, still infuriatingly looking away from Harry. 

“Well, I thought, your assistant..” Harry trailed off, allowing the suggestion to hang in the air. His palms were laced with sweat that had nothing to do with the warm weather – it wasn’t that hot and he was standing in the shade – and he wrung them together nervously.

“I didn’t consider him an appropriate guest.” Draco said, eventually turning his gaze on Harry, coolly raising an eyebrow at him. The sudden attention made Harry blush furiously. Of course Draco wouldn’t bring his boyfriend to his young cousin’s birthday party. He obviously hadn’t introduced him to Teddy yet – with Teddy being the serial chatterbox that he was, Harry would know about it if he had – and who even knew how serious they were? If it was nothing but a casual fling, someone to keep Draco’s bed warm at night…

With a firm shake Harry banished the thought from his head. “Of course not, no, your private life is your business.” Harry muttered, nodding and casting his gaze down to the grass beneath his feet, the way Teddy often would when accepting a telling off for something he knew that Harry was right about.

“Excuse me?” Harry heard Draco ask. 

“Well, I mean, you don’t have to bring your dates or anything, I just thought, if you wanted to..” Harry knew he was rambling pointlessly now and kept his gaze determinedly on the ground, to hide his flushing cheeks if nothing else.

“I thought you of all people would know not to believe everything you read in the Prophet.” Draco responded, causing Harry’s head to whip up so quickly it almost gave him whiplash. His cheeks were still flushed and now burnt deeper with the news he had revealed; Draco wasn’t dating, seriously, casually or otherwise, his assistant. Of course he could be dating someone else but Harry didn’t allow that thought to break into the elation he held at the discovery. 

“Sorry.” He replied, thankful that he could hide the blush on his cheeks under the guise of guilt at his believing the gossip the Prophet published. Draco nodded and turned his gaze back away from Harry, out across the garden, his eyes darting about the guests as if in search of someone.

Perhaps Teddy.

Perhaps to say goodbye.

It was now or never.

“While I’m saying sorry, I have something else to apologise for too.” Harry said, catching Draco’s attention back in an instant. He held his gaze determinedly forward, locking his eyes with Draco’s with the suggestion that he wouldn’t back down. He would deliver this apology – very different now, of course, to the one he had rehearsed – but it would be honest and real and he would no longer have to live with regret. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you the night you left for France. I was scared. I was scared because you were right. I had nothing else. I’d lost my way with Ron and Hermione, I thought Teddy was all I had…” He broke off, taking the deep breath of courage he knew he needed to continue. Draco didn’t interrupt; he watched in silent rapture, his eyes boring into Harry’s more and more with every word. “That wasn’t true, because when I got Teddy back, and Ron and Hermione back, there was still something missing. I did have something else, I had you. But when I realised, it was too late… I’d lost you.” 

Harry exhaled, a long, shaky breath and tucked his hands into the pockets of his robes as if he could mask the way they shook with the nerves it had taken him to speak. He stood and waited, trying to read something, anything, in Draco’s painfully blank expression. He waited for the huff, for the curse, for the acceptance of the apology but the admittance that he could never see Harry in that way and, in fact, he did have a boyfriend…

Harry waited until he could wait no more, and then he kissed him.

The first touch of his lips to Draco’s wasn’t what he had imagined. It wasn’t like finding a pool of water after days stranded in the hottest desert, it wasn’t like a warm fire after weeks in the Arctic. It was flat, unresponsive, and heartbreaking.

He pulled back, his cheeks heating as he opened his lips to apologise for the third time that day.

Before he could speak, however, Draco snarled and crashed his lips to Harry’s.

The second touch was perfect. It was more than he had imagined. It was like being offered one of Honeyduke’s finest chocolate creations after a year of starvation, like getting his first wand, like being told that he was a wizard. It was like everything that had ever been good in his life poured into one solitary moment. Soon enough Draco’s tongue was lapping for access against Harry’s lips. In a daze he barely recognised the pressure but, when he did, was all too eager to allow Draco through. Draco tasted somewhat sour, like lemons and cherries, but Harry couldn’t get enough. It was only when Draco put his hands on his shoulders and pressed him lightly away that Harry opened his eyes, panting slightly as he found grey ones staring back into his.

“I wanted to ask you too, you know.” Draco whispered, so quietly Harry had to strain to hear him above the chatter that floated over from the guests in the garden beyond. “I wanted you to come with me, but I didn’t want you to reject me. I thought, if Teddy was coming, you’d want to come too. All you had to do was ask, I wanted you to ask.”

Not even the realisation that he could have avoided a year of pain could douse the flames of joy that licked at Harry’s very soul. The smile on his face was bright and firm and he knew it wouldn’t fade. Not for a long time.

“Next time?” He asked.

“Next time.” Draco repeated, flashing a dazzling smile to rival Harry’s.

# Epilogue

“It’s going to be strange, going without you both for the same time.” Draco’s soft voice at the door of the study roused Harry from his reading of several long reports sent to him through the Floo, directly from Minister Shaklebolt himself, right that very morning. He’d concentrated on the ink for so long that his head was beginning to pound and, with a wince and a firm rub across his forehead, he turned to Draco and manage to muster a smile.

Not that that was hard, of course. In the seven years that they had been together, his affection for Draco had never faded. Neither had Draco’s looks; the older he was the more dignified he seemed to become, the more chiselled his features became, the sharper his eyes grew and more happy memories glittered within them. All of that, of course, made it very easy for Harry to find a smile for Draco.

His trunk floated behind him, packed and ready for the annual trip he took to France at the anniversary of his mother’s death. 

“I know, I’m so sorry Draco, I’d be there if I could but this case is just so damn difficult, if we leave it for even half a day who knows what could happen…” Harry sighed, already thinking back to the leads he hoped he’d uncovered in the few short papers he had read so far. A group had arisen somewhere in Northern England, practising Dark Magic and taunting muggleborns. It had, of course, been alerted to the Ministry at once, but had only begun to become a real problem when the Dark Mark had been cast above the scene of the first murder the group committed. Only Death Eaters could cast the Dark Mark and, as far as the Ministry had believed, they were all dead or in jail.

Apparently not, Harry thought with a grim look replacing the smile he’d found for Draco.

“It’s ok, I understand.” Draco said, stepping through the door to the study and positioning himself behind Harry. Soon enough cool fingers were placed against his forehead, rubbing in small, soothing circles. “It’s a side effect of dating the Saviour of the Wizarding World.”

“Teddy would love to be there too, you know how he loves the visits.” Harry said, his sigh this time from bliss as Draco’s fingers worked against his forehead.

“Yes, but Hogwarts is important. Although from the trouble he seems to have found himself from this first year already, perhaps some time out wouldn’t be so bad.” Draco chucked as he finished speaking and Harry found himself joining him – only wincing when the sudden amusement caused a flash of pain to strike back against his headache.

Draco stepped away with a frown, carefully considering Harry in the chair at which he sat. “You need to make sure you look after yourself while I’m gone. I know what you’re like when you get a case like this.” He scolded, sounding much more like Hermione and Mrs Weasley than he would ever care to admit.

“How can I without you here to look after me?” Harry pouted, then gave Draco a wink with his eyes twinkling.

“It’s not a joke, Harry.” He sighed, sweeping his hand into his robe and pulling out a soft silk bag. Harry could hear the sound of glass clinking inside and, when Draco opened the bag on Harry’s desk and tapped it with his wand vials rose from inside. Headache potion, Pepper Up potion… Harry smiled. Draco may never like to admit it, but he took better care of Harry than he could ever take of himself.

“Thank you. And you look after yourself.” He added, standing to pull Draco into his arms and give him a long, lingering kiss. “Floo me when you’re settled?”

“Of course.” Draco murmured against his lips, pressing another kiss there before green flames roared into life behind them.

“Auror Potter?” A voice called from the fireplace and Harry slumped – that was clearly all the goodbye he would be able to give to Draco.

“I’ll see you on Thursday.” Draco smiled, stepping away and nodding toward the flames. 

Harry didn’t take his gaze from Draco until he had wrapped his hand around the handle of his trunk and, in a whisper so quite it looked like he only mouthed the words, said “next time” before he disapparated.

“Next time.” Harry whispered back, although his lover was now long gone. 

Then Harry turned his attention to the fire, seeing the Kingsley’s head floating there and crouched to his knees before him.

“Right, what do we have?”


End file.
